Second Chance
by Nubia
Summary: Blaine is given a second chance at life in a world she didn't know existed, until the day she died. Now, trapped in a mission that seems impossible, and surrounded by people who refuse to help, can she succeed and become a knight of Tortall?
1. Prologue

A/N I don't own anything that you recognize. That goes for the rest of the story. If you're reading this, I expect you to review! lol. Enjoy. Also! Just so you know, even though it starts out on earth, the rest of the story is in Tortall, and it's unlike any story that you ahve ever read. Trust me.

Prologue:

Celene Dion's voice sung sweetly from the radio as the blue BMW exited the busy highway and entered a calmer housing development. Blaine sung along with Celene as she felt her shoulders begin to relax. Already she was picturing opening the door to her home and seeing the love of her life waiting for her with open arms.

Her beautiful face stretched into an even more beautiful smile that millions of cameras had tried to capture. Her hands unclenched on the steering wheel and she gave a wistful sigh as Chris's face smiled back at her in her mind. Oh how she loved his smile.

She didn't know how she had lived her hectic life without him for so long. As a child star her life had been anything but normal. And living with a mother who loved her money more then the girl hadn't made for a happy life either. She has starred in her first commercial when she was six months old. She had been a Gurber Baby model until she had turned a year and half and from there her career had boomed. She appeared in her first movie at seven, but hadn't starred in one until she was nine. But since then she had been in countless more, not to mention T.V. appearances, commercials, and mini-series. She had even done a two-year stint as a model. There wasn't a person alive in America who hadn't seen her face.

At least the face she had for the camera. Behind the scenes things hadn't been as pretty. Her mother had pushed her constantly to "be the star she was born to be". She had never been to a real school, only taught by the most expensive tutors. She had never had a real best friend, only those her mother hired. She had been lonely, miserable, and unable to show it. She had wanted more then anything for her mother to be proud of her, and you "didn't get there by complaining." So she had sucked it up and put her game face on more and more outside the camera's range. Her life had diminished to a living hell by the time she was eighteen.

But then Chris had stepped into her life and like magic everything had been perfect.

She had met him on set in the tropics while she had been filming her tenth movie, a daring romance with violence and love and near death experiences that had fused the two characters together. Off set, however, they had fallen in love over candlelight dinners and long walks on the lovely beaches.

They had returned to New York on the same plane and moved in together the next day. Three months later she was planning their wedding. Her heart couldn't have been more in love.

Her beautiful smile took a dreamy tint as her bottle green eyes darkened. She could see her house as she turned the corner, and the houses on either side of hers paled in comparison, though they were built nearly the same.

That yellow house was hers! Hers! With the white picket fence and the small tree in the yard losing its autumn leaves. Those were her flower boxes that needed to be weeded, her yard that needed to be mowed. Her perfect little paradise in the New York suburbs. All her house needed was a dog and a kid to go with and her perfect life would be complete.

She gave a bright laugh and pulled into the garage, which Chris had left open for her. He must be expecting her, she thought with a secret little sparkle in her eyes. She knew he was home; his car was parked next to hers. She hoped he would be surprised that she had been able to get the night off of her previously scheduled film shoot.

She stepped from her car and closed the door slowly, slinging her workout bag over her shoulder. Because of her newest movie, which involved very athletic scenes, she had been taking exercise classes every morning. Just carrying around the bag with the two eight pound weights was enough of a workout for her, she thought jokingly as she fit her key in the lock and opened the door into the dimly lit kitchen.

As the door swung open a sudden discord struck her.

This wasn't right, she thought as low playing music tingled along her skin. Why was he playing music like that? He liked rock music, not this soft stuff, this fluffy, romantic music. And why were there candles? He never lit candles!

She frowned before a light dawned in her brain. He was expecting her! He had set this up to surprise her! She clapped her hands together and controlled a squeal of delight as she dropped her bag and headed for the bedroom.

But wait… She stopped, a discarded shirt at her feet. Why was there…? It had to be hers, she decided as she stepped over it. She must have just left it there on accident, out in the hallway. But she never wore pink shirts; it didn't really go well with her hair. She frowned but shrugged it off. It had to be hers. Who else could it belong to? She was the only woman in the house.

The song ended and in the sudden silence she heard what was unmistakably a giggle. Chris doesn't giggle like that, she thought, as the hair on her skin stood on end, rigid with the adrenaline the suddenly surged through her veins. She stopped outside the cracked door to the bedroom and slowly lifted a hand to push it open easily.

This has got to be fake, she thought as with the tips of her fingers she pushed the door wide open to reveal what it had blocked from her view.

For a moment, as she looked inside, she wished desperately she could slam her eyes closed and step away, shield herself from the sight that greeted her, but there was no way of getting around this. No way to turn back time. No second chance for her suddenly breaking heart.

"Hello Chris. Hello Samantha." She said it calmly. It's funny how easily old habits return, she thought as she fixed her facial expression into a mask of falsely bright humor. It's funny how easily I can slip into a role, even when my heart breaks like this.

"Blaine!" Chris shouted as he pulled himself from the bed. "What are you doing home?"

"I got the night off. I thought I'd surprise you," she gave a cold bitter laugh. "Surprise."

"It's… Blaine it's not what it seems!" Chris stammered, rushing to her, a sheet wrapped around his hips. She looked at the sheet, the cool green silk sheet that she had picked out, knowing that they would share the bed, that it would be their sheets. She felt a fragile crack splinter across her mask and stepped back from his outreaching hands.

"I don't know what else it could be, Chris. It's pretty obvious that it's exactly what it seems. If you'll excuse me, I need to go throw up."

She turned and walked calmly away, disbelieving that she could be this calm, when her heart had shattered into a million pieces. How can it be, she whispered in her mind, that I so easily except this blow life has dealt me?

"Blaine wait!" Chris called, and grabbed onto her arm, turning her to face him. She stared up at him, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, at his beloved pale face sprinkled with freckles, at the fiery red hair that capped his head, memorized them, burned the image onto the flesh of her shattered heart. And broke away from him, ran, whispering goodbye to him even as he called for her.

She ran from the house and into the road, didn't even see the car that slammed into her body. All she saw was the pain of her broken heart.

(**PAGE BREAK**)

Blaine came alive with as gasp, her whole body arching off the solid surface beneath her as she sucked in air. Her bottle green eyes sprang open and stared into infinite starry night. She pitched a screech as pain lanced through her heart and it was then that she remembered what had happened. It felt like an eternity had passed since that moment, but the pain hadn't lessoned.

She curled over onto her side, wrapping herself into a tight ball to stop the ache. Anything to stop the ache. Love hurts, her mind screamed as her face contorted and her mouth opened to release the agony with a shout. Why did it have to hurt? It was supposed to be wonderful, the best thing in the entire world. It was supposed to make even a rainy day seem sunny, even the ugliest flower beautiful, the worst day wonderful. It was hearts and flowers and cute little puppies.

It was not supposed to be like this. Ugly like this.

"Do you want the pain to stop?" the voice washed over her like a wave of salvation. It soothed away the hurt as it echoed across her skin and she turned to the owner of the only chance of peace she had, curving her body towards it.

"Yes," she whimpered and reached for him, reached for the remedy to her wounds. He was the antidote to this toxic poison of pain.

"Do you promise to return the favor?" he asked, just beyond her grasp.

"Yes!" she screamed, desperate. She'd promise to anything as long as he fixed this, made this stop. It was unbearable, beyond her level of tolerance. Killing her.

His hand soothed over her forehead like the cooling balm she had sought and the pain subsided. She fell to her back and relaxed against the ground. The pain had stopped and her pinched face loosened, her eyes opening to the sight of a beautiful man leaning over her.

Truly he was beautiful, she thought objectively, and though she knew most men would cringe at being thought of beautiful, that's the only word that accurately described him. As the final lingering webs of agony disintegrated, she studied him. His long blond hair was falling over his shoulders and nearly touching her face, shadowing his own. She could see his strong, hard chin balanced out by full lips. His face was a strong one, she thought, but that wasn't what she found most interesting. He had the most enchanting eyes.

She couldn't seem to be able to tell what color they were, even though she was staring into them. It seemed impossible and yet, every time her mind tried to focus in and identify a color, they seemed to shift, melt into another one, then another and another until it seemed that he had the eyes the color of a rainbow. It was mesmerizing.

The continual shift of colors had a hypnotic effect on her, causing her eyes to fall closed, even as she sighed. Though this man was a stranger, his eyes, staring into hers seemed to make her feel at ease, as if he had taken over her troubles and solved them. She could almost sleep, she thought dreamily, feeling a gentle breeze dancing along her skin. The pain was completely gone now along with any and every worry she could possibly have. It seemed that along with the pain, this beautiful stranger with astonishing eyes had also taken her ability to care.

"Where am I?" she asked almost dreamily as her eyes opened again and she began to study her surroundings. She was drifting in the infinite night, and even as she looked around, looked under her, to find what it was she was resting on, all she could see was night and stars. How strange, she thought as she laid back down, to be laying on a piece of sky. She had always assumed it would not hold her, that it was intangible.

She hummed in her throat and contemplated a nap, maybe an eternal one. This place was so peaceful.

"We're in-between," the man whispered in his wonderful voice. She tried to decide if it was soothing or just low, but decided that it was both. In fact, it seemed this man was everything. He was a mixture of all things in the world and that made him beautiful.

"In between where?" her eyes opened lazily and she nearly yawned. Her limbs felt heavy, almost to heavy to bother with lifting. She gave a dazed smile and nearly gasped.

A shooting star!

She grinned wider and sighed. She had seen a shooting star once, down on Earth. But here, in-between, it was better, brighter, more beautiful. Closer.

"In-between the worlds, Blaine. Are you ready to wake up?" She frowned at him, but his words nagged at her. In-between the worlds? Was that even possible? The heaviness in her limbs was receding, the foggy state of her mind clearing.

"W-what do you mean? What's going on? What happened?" she was starting to think, starting to realize. This wasn't normal, this wasn't even possible! You couldn't breath in space! And surely she was in space, what with the stars surrounding her. What had happened to her?

She tried to think back, to the last thing she remembered before she had woken up. Chris, the tears, the pain. Running from the house, into the street. Screech of tires. Chris yelling her name. Force hitting her. Then nothing. Nothing.

Now this, here, the man. Her breath began to hitch, her mind to panic. Car, she had been hit by a car. Now, she was in the stars, in the heavens. Dear Lord… "Am I dead?"

"Calm down Blaine, and I will explain," he whispered again, soothing his hand over her brow again. She felt the panic leave and faintly wondered if he had drugged her. She certainly felt drugged, now that she was aware of the fact that she could possibly be dead. Wait… could she be drugged if she was dead?

"My name is Gainel. And I brought you here before you died. You are very much alive. At least in spirit. Your body, however, is not in good shape. I am afraid it will be nearly impossible for you to return to it," he continued to stroke his hand over her brow and stroke by stroke her thoughts disappeared until she was simply listening.

"Now, I know what you must be thinking. If I have no body, what is the point? What are you going to do now? Am I close? Well, I have a proposition for you. You see, there just so happens to be a body without a spirit. If you are willing, I can put you into that body and you can live there. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you're freaking nuts!" the words spewed out before she had a chance to stop it. But instead of him becoming angry, like she had feared, he chuckled deeply, a sound that reminded her of waves crashing on a beach. She smiled faintly at that. She had always loved the ocean, the waves, the salty breeze.

"I suppose I do. But this could be a wonderful opportunity for you, if you think past the bazaar aspect of it all, and just concentrate on the chance I have given you. You have one of two choices, Blaine. You can say yes, and I will place your soul inside the body, allowing you to live a second life, have a second chance. You will be able to do all the things you have never been able to do. No mother to nag you, no producer to direct you, and no Chris to hurt you. Doesn't that sound nice?

"Or, you can refuse. This option brings you to two more options. The first, I can place you back inside your body. There is still a slim chance that it will survive and you can recover. However, your body and face were severely damaged and I imagine that your career will be over. And without a big moneymaking career, I feel it's only the truth that many of the people in your life would leave you. You will grow old, all alone, likely die alone, miserable. That is though, if you survive. Your second option is for me to take you straight from here to the afterlife, skipping right through the death part. And trust me, the afterlife… not exactly the best option. So, Blaine, I ask you, which do you choose?"

Well, when he put it like that… "I guess I'm going with the first choice."

"As I myself would have."

"So tell me about this girl I'm bumping out of a body," she said, deciding it would be less horrible if she thought of the girl she was more or less killing as a role in a play, and not a real person. And to become a character in a play, she needed background so she could build herself into it.

"Her name was Princess Marissa De Veinto of Tusaine. And you're not bumping her out of a body. Her soul has already left. Princess Marissa was born a sweet, naïve girl. But also very weak. She struggled most of her life to live up to the expectations of being a princess, but it was very hard on her and she was never very happy. When she got sick a few months ago, she refused to struggle and instead, allowed her soul to flee her body. Now it is simply an empty husk. If someone does not enter the body soon, it will die and the country will be left in shambles. Because you see, Princess Marissa is part of a prophecy."

She made a humming sound in her throat. So, it wouldn't really be body snatching. It would be doing a favor. And it wasn't like she was harming anyone, because the soul was already gone. And now there was prophecy in the mix? This was becoming interesting. "What kind of prophecy?"

"Let me give you a little bit more background first, before I explain. Tusaine borders the country of Tortall. And though they have never had a war fought between them, neither have they been on the friendliest of terms. In fact, they hadn't been on any terms. Tusaine is a very isolated country. They don't like to deal with foreign affairs and tend to let boundary disputes be settled the old fashioned way. Kill and let die. That was, until one of their most renowned prophets wrote a prophecy around a future princess of Tusaine. And as the people of Tusaine are very religious, there was no ignoring the prophecy."

"Yes but what did it say?" She was grateful for the background information, had filed it away for later. She fully intended to learn everything she possibly could while in Tusaine, as that was one of her favorite things to do, but at the moment, curiosity had a tight hold on her priorities.

"It said that the second child of King Henrick would become a knight of Tortall."

"Ah!" Blaine gasped with glee. "So, Princess Marissa was the second child, and a woman, which, I assume, is uncommon for a knighthood. And since she was born, as you say, weak, she probably lived in constant fear that she would never make it as a knight, that she would disappoint her people, that she would, tragically, never fulfill the prophecy and so prove the religion wrong. I see. Well… where do I fit in?"

"You are to become Princess Marissa, train to become a knight, and then do so, to fulfill the prophecy, and as you say, make her people happy. But there is more."

"More?" Blaine pulled herself out of building herself a cozy little character role to live out while in Tusaine and focused on Gainel once more.

"Yes, more. I have a favor to ask from you. In exchange for the second chance that I'm giving you."

"And what is that?" she asked, suddenly suspicious. It had sounded a little too good to be true. How often was it, that a stranger saved your soul and offered to put you in another body so you could have a second chance? Not that often, she thought.

"Once you are well on your way to becoming a knight, I will have a mission for you to fix a mistake made by a foolish young mage who tried to aspire to great heights, and instead managed to put the entire world in danger. Are you up to it?"

She thought for several long seconds, weighing the options the choices. Really, what was one small mission in return for a second chance at life? "You betcha!"

"Excellent. Goodbye Blaine!" he gave her that wonderfully confusing smile and ran his hand over her face, the tips of his fingers brushing her eyes closed.

When she blinked them open she found herself staring into an entirely different face, one that seemed entirely shocked as she felt. Where had all the stars gone? The infinite night? Gainel?

Instead, she was staring into a pair of pretty golden eyes staring quite adamantly at her own, as if willing her to wake.

"Who the devil are you?" she snarled, pushing herself up with surprisingly short arms.

"I'm Darren, you're bodyguard. And what a wonderful day to finally wake, Princess," the man, Darren, had a secret little smile of his rugged tan face. She stared at his wild mane of golden hair and was struck by his uncanny appearance that reminded her of a lion. But his words slowly sunk into her brain.

"What day would that be?"

"Why, you're eight birthday! I'm sure glad you're awake. You had slept like the dead." He had to be lying to her, she thought numbly, staring at him with a flat look.

Climbing to her feet, she pulled herself across the room to a mirror she had spied from her bed. Peering in, she came to a shocking conclusion.

He hadn't been lying.

A/N There you go! Now review!


	2. Ch 1 Four Years Later

A/N Thanks for reading! And don't forget to review! And thanks to those who reviewed last chapter! Now please enjoy!

Chapter One: Four Years Down the Road

Blaine sighed and leaned heavily on the railing of the boat, staring at the hundreds of faces crowding the dock below her without seeing them. Families, friends, and even strangers had gathered together on this day to see her ship set sail. Of course, they had no idea that the Princess was aboard, but that was for her own safety. She contemplated waving at the crowd simply because it was there but decided against it. It's not like she knew anyone down there.

As the wind tangled through her golden locks of sun dappled hair, Blaine turned away from the smiling faces and leaned her back against the rail, brooding. One delicate hand rose to finger her slightly reddened cheek.

It was hard sometimes, she thought, to remember that not everyone realized she wasn't the average twelve year old. In fact, no one knew. One of the burdens of getting a second chance, she reflected to herself, is that it has to be a secret.

But that didn't make it easy, especially when she was a twenty-two year old woman trapped inside a body way to young for her. There were perks, she would acknowledge that much, such as getting away with things that a twenty-two year old could never do. For example, a twenty-two year old could not throw a royal tantrum over the color of her dress to escape going out with an entirely too annoying older suitor. And also, a twenty-two year old could not "mistakenly" insult a stuffy arrogant ambassador, flutter her lashes and instead of being scolded told she was cute. Oh no, there were some things a twenty-two year old could just not do.

But there were lots and lots of things that a twenty-two year old could do that a twelve year old could not. For instance, a twenty-two year old could say in the baldest of terms that "if she wanted to be a god-damned knight she could be a god-damned knight and no matter what her mother or older brother wanted or thought, she would leave for Tortall whenever she damn well pleased!" A twelve year old could not say that.

Oh no, she thought darkly, a twelve year old could not. She just hoped the red mark, proof of her earlier thoughts, didn't get worse before it got better. The captain of the ship had informed her that they would be arriving at the Tortallan border within days, two at the most.

And if she was to perfect her image, as the actress part of her greatly wanted to do, she could not show up with a rebellion caused mark on her face. Oh no, that would not do. Not at all.

"Going to stand out here brooding all day, Princess? Or are you going to let it go sometime," Blaine refused to smile at Darren, her long-term bodyguard. He could be as smug as he wanted, she thought, after all, he had warned her that talking to her guardians like that would never fly. But she had thought she was entitled to make her own choices. After all, it was she who had been in constant contact with the King of Tortall, making arrangements and such. How was she supposed to know that her older brother would throw a fit if she left for squire training two years earlier then expected?

"All day," she snipped, folding her arms over her chest, portraying the angry damsel. She made sure that when she angled her face to the side, Darren was certain to set his gaze upon the red mark.

"Let me see," he murmured and grabbed her chin, bending down to her height to look at it. She nearly smiled in amusement. She had always been short as a kid and she knew her growth spurt wouldn't kick in until she was nearing seventeen. The one advantage that really came in handy was having been placed into a body mirror to her own back on Earth. She knew everything about it, including what would happen, growth wise, and when. No awkward teen stage for her, she was already anticipating it and how she would use it to her advantage.

"Oh, quit pouting your highness, he barely touched you. The mark will be gone by the end of the day!" Darren stood back up, chuckling, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"It had better be! Those Tortallan's are expecting a perfect little pretty pretty princess! And perfect little pretty pretty princess's don't have slap marks on their faces, now do they?" she didn't wait for his reply, and instead stormed off to her room. Darren would let her stew, she knew. Not past dinner of course. Darren made sure she saw to every meal of every day. That was part of his job, he insisted time after time.

Slipping into her lavish sitting room she allowed her face to relax until all her true emotions were unmasked. She had her limits on where she used her talents, and alone was not on of those places. Years ago, whilst daydreaming instead of studying the horticultural history of Tusaine, something intensely boring, she had thought back on her first life.

And it had been shocking at how easily she had allowed herself to retreat behind her mask of talents, to the point where the real Blaine had hardly even existed. What most people back then had seen was a fake Blaine, someone she had made up to fit to what they had expected of her. In any other setting, on film, in magazines, for reporters, it would have been wonderful. But it hadn't stopped once she was alone. She had stopped being true to herself and had instead chosen the safe route, and been only what others had wanted her to be.

Essentially, she had been weak.

And she refused to allow herself to be like that ever again. She was Princess Blaine Marissa De Veinto! And she, most of all, would never forget that. So alone, and with certain people during certain circumstances, she allowed herself to be the real Blaine, and not the masked figure.

A headache was beginning to nag at the back of her eyelids after such a rough day. It wasn't just every day that she defied her parents, technically ran away, snuck onto a boat that had been forbidden to give her passage (at first) and sulked for the better part of an hour. Really, it was exhausting.

She sat in an exquisite little chair next to a nearly as beautiful little table and sighed, tipping her head back and resting. It wasn't long before she realized she wasn't alone. But she didn't panic upon the discovery. She could smell that faintest hint of jasmine and sand.

"Gainel," she whispered and opened her eyes, a wicked smile within the bottle green jewels. "How lovely to see you." Her voice a purr.

She had come to love her visits from Gainel over the four years since she had met him. At first though, she had been quite angry with him for forgetting to mention that the body he had wanted to give her had been an eight-year-olds. But after the initial confusion and heated words, she had realized he had done it for her best interests. And a friendship had grown.

But if she knew Gainel, and she did, to a certain extent, he wanted something of her. Yes, he had visited her several times over the years, and though the visits had all been pleasant and they had bonded during each, he never came unless he had a purpose. And usually that purpose had something to do with preparing her for the mission. Whether it be useful knowledge, a vital fighting technique, or simply a warning that her next actions directly influenced the promised mission, he always, always, had a purpose.

That didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun before they got down to business. With a snap her mask was back, her eyes going sultry, turning up just the slightest at the corners. Her smile turned secret and glorious, as her legs crossed silkily and she leaned forward, her golden locks falling over her shoulder.

She wrung the desired laughter from Gainel. She knew she looked ridiculous. At least to Gainel. If he had been a perfect stranger, he would have reacted entirely different to her sultry come on. But because he knew her, realized what she was doing, it only made him laugh. Which is what she had wanted.

"Lovely as always Blaine. But what's this?" he reached out and soothed his hand across her cheek. She felt, as she always felt from his touches, a soothing of nerves, a calming of thoughts, and a sleepiness start to take over. But as his hand left her skin, she forced it away and focused in.

"A fond farewell is all," she shrugged and turned her head away, angling down her chin, making her face look soft, a little sad, maybe even on the verge of tears. But she looked up at Gainel from under her lashes and saw that he wasn't buying into her act. That's what she loved most about Gainel. He wasn't easily fooled by her, as many people were. Which made their conversations all the more interesting.

"Oh? Do you always say goodbye with open handed violence?" Gainel smiled as well and she was reminded of the moon emerging from behind clouds.

"Of course! What other way is there?" she chuckled and gave his shoulder a little push. But then turned serious. "I forget sometimes that to everyone else, I'm still a kid. And in my first life, I was always very independent. Things carried over, I guess, because I took immediate control of this whole knight thing. And I guess my family didn't approve of me doing so. And then, factor in me not filling them in on any of it… well. Let's just say they were none to thrilled when I informed them I was leaving today to start my training as squire." She shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "My mistake."

"You didn't tell them about any of it? Any of it at all?" Gainel's voice had taken on the sound of thunder rolling through the hills, his version of shock.

"I'm used to having to do things on my own!" she brought her chin up, squared her shoulders as liquid steel stole through her veins. Defiance. What an exhilarating emotion. It had always been her favorite. Her eyes turned fierce, daring Gainel to tell her she was wrong, or try to make her change.

"Okay, okay!" he chuckled and held up his hands as if in surrender. "Don't turn that look on me, Blaine! It's intimidating. And besides, I didn't come here to pick at you. I came here to talk to you about something."

"The mission?" her eyes brightened like emerald jewels in sunlight as she leaned forward in the chair.

"Yes. When you reach Tortall I will visit you again to give you specific information, as I know I have been very vague. But soon, you will have a good idea of what's going on, or at least, you will have experienced some of it firsthand."

"Experience how?"

"Now Blaine, if I was to tell you that, it would spoil the surprise." Blaine looked into his eyes and knew he wasn't going to tell her. She turned away, blowing out her breath. Curiosity was a beast inside her that she was familiar with. She hated when she couldn't appease it.

As she turned back to face Gainel, he was gone, only his lingering chuckle to prove he had even been there.

She sighed slightly and shook her head. "What's wrong with a nice goodbye?" she asked of the empty air. She tried to remain slightly put off by his abrupt departure, but an excited smile claimed her face.

What was she doing sitting around her? She demanded as she bounded to a mirror to freshen up the makeup around her eyes. The mission wouldn't find her if she was sitting alone in her room. Oh no, she had to go out and up on deck for that.

* * *

Darren gave her a silly grin when she sauntered onto the rear deck. She grinned back at him from across the expanse, standing in the doorway. He was always a picture for her to look like. As he stood at the rail of the ship, the wind rippling through his hair, the sun making his eyes squint, he looked powerful. Over the years, he had let his hair grow long, often jokingly telling her he didn't have time to get it cut, that with her around he was always on the job. But she didn't mind. The long hair made him look even more like a lion in her eyes, with that golden main of hair.

A sudden turn of his head, brought her attention to the pretty young girl standing next to Darren. She lifted her eyebrows when he looked back at her, then waggled them. Darren had always been after the ladies. As if in response to Blaine's thoughts, he gave a sheepish shrug, then grinned shamelessly, and turned his body more towards the fawning girl.

Blaine shook her head and couldn't help but smile. She opened her mouth to call out to him, some snooty remark no doubt, but the door behind her jerked open suddenly, slamming into her back and knocking her forward.

It was only the training that had been drilled into her daily for the past four years that had her arms out, catching her fall and rolling her onto her back to push herself up just as quick.

She bounced lightly to her feet, brushing herself off, then turning on an apologetic smile and flashing it up at the person who had opened the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been… standing… there…"

It was training, again, that had her stepping back, reaching for the hilt of her sword strapped to her waist by a sturdy bejeweled belt around her hips. The man that had opened the door looked…

Blaine stared up into the eyes as beautiful as a lake hidden up in the mountains. And as blank as untouched snow. She shivered, her own green eyes trying to look away. There was nothing in those eyes, nothing at all, as if he wasn't even human. As if he wasn't even alive. And as she stared longer and longer into them, she felt herself growing steadily colder until the cold was seeping into her very bones. She shivered and tried to turn away from those dead eyes, but her body was stuck, frozen into place.

Those eyes, those beautiful lake eyes, sucked her in and swallowed her whole, until she was drowning. In a flash she saw herself, stuck in that mountain lake, stuck under the water. Trapped and facing eminent death. And as she struggled to the surface, struggled through the water that tried to force her back, struggled to live, ice began to creep across it. Frantic now, and determined to make it, she swam faster and faster, pulling harder with her arms, kicking faster with her legs, the water so clear she could see the surface, could see that if she was just a bit faster, just a bit, she would make it. The ice wouldn't trap her.

Wouldn't kill her. If only.

Her face slammed up against the ice as she reached the surface. Trapped. Fingers scrambling, searching. There had to be a way out, had be a weak point she could force herself through. She was strong enough to do it. She had to be strong enough. Panic bloomed bright, the beginning of her downfall, as it weighed heavy in her arms, made them like lead. Pain as her lungs burned for air spread across her body. Her limbs grew weak; she could barely lift them to try anymore. Try to get out.

The last, involuntary attempt to breath had her swallowing water. It rushed into her lungs, liquid poison. One last kick, one last attempt at life. And she died. As she stared into those eyes, she died.

"Blaine!" A shout had her blinking, stumbling back, away from that haunting death. Still shocked, she didn't protest when Darren grabbed her arm and jerked her protectively away from the man, trying to shield her body with his.

Her eyes searched, needing to see, needing to reassure that she wasn't at the mountain, wasn't at that lake. Wasn't dead.

Her eyes focused on the source of this frantic search for sanity and it was then that she realized the man with the death eyes was holding a sword. A massive, deadly looking sword.

Her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword, but she didn't draw, still to stunned by what she had seen. Even Darren's curse didn't faze her, though often times she scolded him for it.

But she could see why he had done so.

Striding across the deck from the left was another man, dressed in all black like the first, with the same shade of mountain lake eyes. She was certain if she looked into those eyes it would have much the same effect. She would again see her own death.

She didn't want to look. Didn't want to see.

Blaine lurched away from Darren's hand and tried to step away, tried to escape that horrible vision of desperate, useless struggle. Consequently, she didn't see as a black, writhing substance began to form around the second man's hands and slowly solidify into a bow. Didn't see as an arrow also appeared in his hand. And she definitely didn't see when the man notched the arrow, pulled back and let fly.

But she did see Darren throw himself in front of her. And she did feel the impact of the arrow thudding into his body. And she did hear the agonized breath that rushed from his lungs like black smoke.

"Darren?" she whispered, feeling his body slowly start to lean heavier and heavier against her. His only response was an agonized whimper. Oh god, a traitorous voice whispered in her mind, the first step toward mental chaos.

Her eyes, wide with sudden panic, searched franticly for help, for a way to get free from these men so she could see to Darren. She had to see to Darren. But the deck of the boat had gone suddenly deserted. There was no one. And no escape. The two men had advanced so far that they could easily reach her were she to run.

She felt a second thud as a second arrow buried itself in Darren's back. Nearly screamed as if it was she herself who had been shot. The two men with the death eyes were advancing even further. Soon they would be upon her and it would all end.

Blaine backed away from them, wrapping her arms around Darren's waist and pulling. Her back bumped into the railing of the boat and she froze, panicking even further. A cool, rational voice in her mind whispered and she calmed instantly. Yes, that was it.

Really there was no choice, she decided as her back pressed even harder against the rail. No other choice. One dainty foot after the other slowly began to climb the railing until she had dragged herself and Darren up far enough that she could lean back, far enough that she could do what she planned and take Darren with her.

With a quick inhaled breath and a final squeezed hold on Darren, she leaned back and allowed herself to fall over the side of the boat into the churning water what seemed like miles below.

* * *

A crewmember, hearing a curious splash, came up the deck to the stern of the boat to see what had caused the noise. As he crossed the deck to the railing, he slipped slightly on a puddle of water. Looking down, he saw another one a few feet away. One of the younger lads would have to come mop it up before a careless passenger slipped and did bodily harm.

A movement in the water had him striding to the railing then watching in disbelief. There, right before his very eyes, was the royal Princess of Tusaine, dragging her bodyguard through the water and to the shore.

"Captain!" he shouted, before he began running for the stairs leading to the captain's quarters. Up he went, then down a hall until he reached a red door with a golden handle. He didn't bother to knock politely, simply burst through the door, startling the poor man from his map reading.

"What is it man!" the captain shouted, clutching at his heart still thundering from shock. The sailor looked as if he had seen a ghost he was so pale. And sweating too.

"It's the Princess! She and her bodyguard have fallen overboard!" he gasped out, winded from his terror and his flight to the room. If anything were to happen to the Princess, they would all be hanged. They should never have let her on the boat. The royal Prince had expressly forbidden them incase something just like this happened.

Why hadn't they listened? Going against royal orders was treason and treason was death! He, and he knew he wasn't alone on this, didn't want to die. But more, he didn't want to lose the Princess. "What are we to do?"

"Don't panic! The river's to small to turn the boat around and go get them. But as soon as we dock ship tomorrow we'll send someone back to look for them. They'll make shore, I'm sure of it. It's just a short swim. Besides, she has her bodyguard with her. They'll be fine! I promise on my life, nothing will happen to them."

Oh, if only he knew.


	3. Ch 2 River Bank

A/N Okay, I had been planning on updating once a week, but I loved this chapter so much, and was so proud of myself that I had to update right away! lol. So! Here it is. And from now on, if I don't have a spontaneous moment again, I will be updating once a week, so every friday. Thanks so much for reading and please review when you are done!

Chapter Two: River Bank

Blaine grunted as with a final push with her feet on the river bottom, she landed on the bank, her lower half still shrouded in water. Darren, who was face down on her stomach, his body in between her legs, had stopped moving long ago. But she couldn't think about that. She had to get all the way out of the water first. Then she could worry whether he was still alive or not.

She cursed her dress heatedly as she brought her legs up out of the water and tried to find purchase on the suddenly slick riverbank. The hundreds of layers of petticoats had acted like a sponge in the water and Blaine was certain more then half the river water had been sucked into the material and now weighed her down, made her feel like the dress was made of pure lead instead of thin summer material.

The grunt that escaped her as she used her feet to push herself and Darren further up the bank and onto level, dry land was anything but ladylike. But she didn't care. This was not a time to think about proper manners. This was crunch time. In crunch time you didn't think, you reacted first.

She leaned back against the ground, panting from exhaustion as she mentally flipped textbook pages in her mind. She had done a two-month study on healing techniques with a special focus on field healing. Within a matter of seconds she had formulated a plan as was getting ready to do her best for Darren.

First things first. The arrows had to be pulled out. Which meant she would have to get out from under the unmoving Darren so she could find the best angle to pull. As she tipped him onto his side and scrambled out from under him, she hoped he was unconscious and not dead. Partly for his sake, but mostly for her own. Darren had become a vital part of her life, like the protective older brother she had often daydreamed about when she was younger and still capable of such things.

Years as an actress had fixed that though and she had come to realize that dreams only came true in movies and for certain extremely lucky people. As Darren flopped back down on his stomach, she told her self she wasn't one of those people.

"Focus Blaine! Focus!" she whispered furiously to herself, "This is not the time for such thoughts!"

She shoved those underhanded thoughts from her mind and hunkered down by Darren's side. Her hands shook as she let her eyes settle on Darren's back for the first time, ready to pull out the arrows, something she was not looking forward too. Healing wasn't exactly her strong point. In her old life it had been a stretch to even watch medical shows, let alone pull out actual arrows from someone's back. Oh no, this would not be pleasant, she thought, eyes trained on Darren's back, searching for the arrows. Only to find a shocking surprise.

There were no arrows.

Startled, Blaine lifted up the wet shirt soaked and sticking to his back and peeked under the shirt. Nope, they really weren't there. She searched the ground around her, but still, no arrows. They were gone. "What the heck?"

The river, she thought getting back to business. The river must have swept them away. She pulled off Darren's shirt to search for the arrow wounds. Though the arrows themselves were gone, the wounds weren't. The first was high on his left shoulder. The second, also on his left, had pierced the flabby skin on the very outside of his back. Nothing vital had been pierced.

Must have been an exceptionably strong current, a nasty voice in her head whispered as she inspected the wounds, to have tugged the arrows out so cleanly. And it was true. There was no tearing or ripping of the flesh that would suggest the arrows had been pulled out. For all intents, it looked as if the arrow had gone in. And disappeared.

But that was impossible. No! The current had pulled out the arrows and that was that. No matter if she herself felt only a small, mild current. There was no other explanation.

Her mind set, she squared her shoulders and reached for her petticoats. Though the hundreds and hundreds of layers were mostly a nuisance, they would forever be worshipped as the best-known bandages that were always handy.

"Don't you fret, dear," she said to the unconscious Darren as she tore up the material. "You'll be patched up in no time!"

* * *

Merric of Hollyrose stared down the captain who had started sweating profusely the minute he stepped from the boat onto the dock before him and scowled, a deep dark expression that had the said captain shivering. "The Princess did what?"

"She fell of the boat, Sir Knight. I'm terribly sorry! But the river… it's too… we couldn't turn around! We… she's… she'll be fine! Her bodyguard was with her!"

Merric cursed and turned away furiously. This is just what he needed. Not only was a squire, one that he wanted less then he wanted to step in a pile of horse dung, being forced upon him, he also had to give away a perfectly good—more then perfectly good—and acceptable—more the acceptable—squire to someone else, and he also had to interrupt all his plans to come down to the Tusaine border collect her. She was a damn princess, couldn't she hire someone to bring her up? Why did he have to go get her himself?

It was just his luck that of course, the idiot had to fall off the boat into the water and get lost. Now he would have to go find her. It was his obligation as a knight, and to the king who had given him the specific orders to collect her and bring her back, relatively unharmed.

Well, obligations be damned! He wasn't in a particularly good mood, or feeling very kindly towards the king. It was King Jonathan, after all, that had told him in bald terms that he had been chosen to take on the Princess as a squire. That's right, chosen. Because it wasn't like he had already had someone picked out and someone who was willing to work with him. No, he was the best, and apparently only, knight that could be her squire.

It wasn't that he had anything against women trying to become knights, not at all. In fact, one of his closest friends was a lady knight herself. Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan soon to be Moseboile. He was in the firm belief that if the woman was strong enough and had enough courage and determination, she could indeed become a knight, possibly even make an excellent one. What he didn't believe, however, was that princesses could do this.

In his mind, princesses were spoiled, lazy, snobby, simple-minded, and were better of at parties then on the battlefield. Princesses, in his opinion should remain seated on their thrones and not in saddles. Princesses were to be seen and admired as a beautiful thing to look at, not to be felt or heard on the battlefield. And thus, being forced to squire a Princess who, more then likely, was all those things hadn't put him in the best of moods.

Then to learn that she had stupidly fallen off the boat hadn't helped, it had solidified what he had already hypothesized about princesses in general. In fact, it had made the final decision on what he had planned. He was going back to the palace and demanding that the king find someone else to do this horrendous job. He would take back his old squire, forget about the whole ordeal and be done with it. Forever! If he so happened to pass the princess on the street at some later date, he would walk past her without looking and she would never know. Perfect solution for everyone.

"I suggest," he growled to the captain, signaling to one of his men to ready his horse, "that you go back to your country and find someone to look for her. Then send her to the palace and let the king deal with it. I'm done!" With that, he mounted his horse, and rode off, leaving the captain sputtering in his wake.

"I can't… I'll be hanged! I wasn't even supposed to give her a boat ride at all! Aye, I'm doomed." He hunched his shoulders and tried to calculate. How many men could he spare? How many men could he send off to find the Princess and take her to the capital of Tortall?

The answer was more frightening then the thought of being killed for treason.

* * *

"Thank god for summer," Blaine exclaimed laying on her back beside the motionless, and newly bandaged, Darren. The sun beat down on her, pulsing rays of heat that worked miracles on her previously soaked dress. Her very thin, very expensive, dress would dry in no time, as would Darren's clothes.

No need to worry about hypothermia in this weather, she thought cheerily. All she had to do was lie back, make sure that Darren remained okay, and wait for the rescue boat. For surely, the captain would realize that she was gone and send someone back for a rescue. They had to. She was the princess and they loved her. They would come, she was certain.

Three hours later she was less certain. The boat would have reached the port by now. Would have started heading back. She had questioned the captain extensively on how long the trip would take to make sure she had everything planned correctly. And it wouldn't have taken this long to reach the port. The captain had said, weather permitting, that it would take less then a day. If it rained or was stormy, a little more, two at most. And the weather was flippin' gorgeous so why weren't they here yet?

Calm down, she chided to herself. He probably just needed to inform the people waiting for her what had happened, and that could take a while, as there hadn't been any witnesses. So, surely everyone would have a lot of questions. Then they had to arrange a plan, and of course everyone had to agree on it, which would again take some time. Yes, that was why they weren't here yet, why they hadn't been rescued. But they would very shortly.

What seemed like days later (really only just another hour) Blaine began to have doubts. What if no one had noticed that they weren't on the ship? What if they had just assumed that they had gotten off the ship when it docked and no one knew they were missing? What if, and she really dreaded this, what if … she had to find her own way back?

Not that that would be a problem! No, she had been trained and prepared for situations just like that. But really, she had intended on coming to Tortall without making waves. She had wanted to sink into the life there quietly, get through the four years without notice, complete her mission and be done with it!

So far, she hadn't had a good start. For one, falling off the boat hadn't helped. Now they would think her an idiot. But really, was that so bad? With the mission starting so soon, sooner then she had planned, she would need to be more by herself to do it. She liked to do things on her own, an independent soul to the last, and she couldn't do that if her knight master was always hanging around. So maybe appearing to be an idiot would help.

And even better, if she pretended that she was useless, a klutz, a total ninny when it came to anything to do with knight hood, then no one would want to be around her ever, or waist their time trying to help her train. She would be alone. All the time.

Yes that was it! She would _be_ the pretty pretty princess. She would be one of those horrible evil princesses that she had read of in books, the kind that everyone loved to hate. The kind that had no manners, talked in high-pitched voices, giggled obnoxiously, fainted at the sight of blood, was lazier then snot, and thought that every man in the world was madly in love with her.

Well, maybe not all of that, she amended, sitting up with her knees drawn into her chest, chin resting in hand. That was a little extreme. Maybe she would just have some of those qualities. Blaine grinned, really getting into the spirit of things.

Marissa De Veinto, the newest Tortallan squire, was expected to be a perfect princess. She was expected to speak intelligently, walk elegantly, dance beautifully. She was to have impeccable manners, never say anything horrible to anyone, the perfect meek little mouse.

The _real_ Marissa De Veinto, at least the real character of Marissa De Veinto, would be a nincompoop. She would speak out of turn, and in turn of course. But everything she said would garner the reaction of blank faces followed by a dismal shake of the head for anything she said would be horribly stupid and silly. She would stutter, fumble, and buckle under pressure, she would be easily intimidated, and she would blush hideously around every male, including those younger and older, ugly and handsome, although handsome would get a darker shade of red. In studies, she would do well enough, but loathed to admit it. She would be extremely modest, to the point of lacking self-confidence.

Of course in any sort of combat she would totally fail. Whether it be swords, bows, staffs, or hand-to-hand, she would be useless. Marissa wouldn't do well with fighting or blood. Any sort of injury, even just talking about them, made her cringe and feel sick to her stomach. And confrontations! Even the thought of them made her horribly uncomfortable.

What else, what else? Blaine's beautiful green eyes sparkled magnificently as she thought more. She loved nothing as best as she loved acting. And creating her own character role to sink into… why, that was just plain magic. She had to admit that she would have more then a little fun with this one. Just because it was becoming more complex as the minutes wore on.

Blaine gasped and sat up straight as her face lit as if a light bulb had been switched on. She would be deathly afraid of sickness. After her traumatizing sickness, the one that had occurred when she was eight that nearly killed her, she would be unable to cope with any kind of illness. She avoided sickrooms like the plague and refused to be seen by a healer. That one would be the easiest for Blaine to accomplish.

After living eighteen years in a world where modern medicine was the one and only cure for illness, it had been hard to cope with healers. Plus, magic hadn't really existed in her world, so having it so commonly used here had thrown her off, and she still didn't trust healers completely. It was practically second nature for her to slap away a healer's hand.

Of course, she would have to keep her name. She couldn't go by Marissa. The name just didn't sit with her. After waking up from her body jumping four years ago, she had been horrified that everyone called her Marissa. Maybe it had been the fact that she knew Marissa was really dead that had done it. But one day, after weeks of enduring the name, she had cracked. She leaned back on her hands, staring up at the passing clouds as her mind drifted to the past, remembering her long ago conversation with Darren.

"Marissa, can you hand me that book?" they had been sitting in the library, reading up the history of the lance; where it had come from, who had invented it, how had it changed over the years, and so on. Fascinating stuff really. "Marissa?"

Blaine continued to read, slowly turning the page, acting as if she hadn't heard. Really, she thought, her eyes moving but seeing nothing, she didn't understand why she hadn't thought of this earlier. The whole name thing had been a stitch in her side for months. And this had to be the easiest solution to any problem she had ever had. So she asked herself again, why hadn't she thought of it sooner?

"Marissa? Can you pass me that book please? Or would you rather ignore me?" Darren snapped with just a tiny hint of irritation in his deep voice.

As if on cue Blaine lifted her head, blinking blurrily at Darren. "I'm sorry? Are you talking to me?"

"Your name is Marissa, correct?" This time there was more then just a hint of irritation.

"Funny thing, really," Blaine said, closing her book gently before bracing her hands on the edge of the table and pushing to stretch her back out. It gave a nifty pop against the back of the chair before she loosened her arms and slumped back down in her chair, face somber all the while.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I decided it's high time for me to get a nickname. I mean, every girl who's any girl has to have a nickname. It's all the rage this season I tell you. Why, even the maid who cleans my chamber pot has a nickname. It's down right disgraceful that I don't have one yet."

"What's hers?" Darren asked, raising his eyes skeptically. He should have expected this. Ever since she had woken up from her illness she had been a bit weird. These sudden outbursts would soon come to be expected, as would her funny way of speaking. Really, who said things like she did? "Funny thing" and "all the rage this season" and "high time"? He'd never heard those phrases before in his life and he was certain neither had she. They were odd, and not normal. But from her, somehow they seemed natural. Like… like she was used to using them. Like she had been using them all her life.

"Well, actually, it's highly inappropriate for a girl my age to repeat, let alone hear. So it's best I keep it to myself. But if you must know…" she let her sentence die off and raised her eyebrows questionably at him. At the time, she was still pretending to be eight, but she was certain that was falling through quite fast. But Darren didn't seem to notice, or either was used to it.

"That's alright. But what about you? What do you want your 'nickname' to be?"

She graced him with a beautiful smile. "Why, Blaine of course. I believe Blaine will suit me just fine."

"Well, Blaine, could you please pass me that book?"

Blaine laughed now as she had back then. Darren had always been so accepting, she reflected as she glanced over at him, her mind once more in the present and on the riverbank. He had never questioned anything she did or said, at least, not out loud. She was sure underneath his cool and accepting domineer he had thousands of questions just bubbling below the surface, waiting for a chance to explode into the open, like a simmering volcano.

But he had always been kind enough to refrain from asking. She was sure at the beginning it had started out as him seeing it as none of his business. After all, he had only been a hired bodyguard then, not a part of the family as he was considered now. So it hadn't been his place to ask. Later, she was certain that he didn't ask because he respected her enough to leave it alone.

Or he simply stopped noticing.

Either one, she was glad that he didn't. Because if he had asked, she would have been tempted to tell him the truth. And the truth would have made her sound like a regular old loon. If she hadn't been living, breathing, existing in this world, she would have thought herself crazy. But obviously it was real. It had to be real.

If it wasn't, she was mightily impressed with her own imagination to have thought up such a wonderful, exciting, and complicated reality as this within her own brain to live in. And that was what told her that this was real. She didn't believe herself to have the capacity within her imagination to create something such as this. No, this was real.

This was her second chance.

She sighed and forced of the sudden melancholy thoughts. Focusing on the river and the still calm waters that flowed gently past where she sat on the bank. The soon was setting and the boat wasn't coming back, she knew it in her gut. They would have to walk upriver to the dock and see about getting transportation up to the capital. For surely, if the boat wasn't coming back, then neither was a rescue mission. They probably didn't even know that she was gone. Sighing, Blaine rested her cheek on her up drawn knees, looking down at Darren.

He was still lying on his stomach, his head turned toward her so she could see his face. She watched his back rise and fall gently with his breathing then moved her eyes to his face, watching as his eyes fluttered open, waited patiently for him to look at her, ask if she was alright as that was nearly always the first thing he asked her after waking. She didn't have long to wait.

"Are you all right?" his voice was gruff with the sound of sleep and dulled pain.

"Yes, but are you? You are, after all, the one to who got shot with arrows. Twice," she gave him a serene smile and waited for him to answer.

"I suppose I am. You the one who bandaged me?" he asked, rubbing at the petticoats banded about his chest and stomach. She nodded and he sighed, as if he knew. "Always did pull the bandages too tight."

She smiled faintly and waited, suddenly saddened. The mood had changed rapidly from her humorous recollections of the past to the rapidly dimming present. Blaine didn't like to admit when things went wrong because it seemed to make it ten times worse then when she ignored it. But they were in a pickle. A big pickle.

"Where are we?" Darren asked staring up at the sky, leafy branches dancing in and out of view with the wind. He was still groggy from his black out, she could tell. And in pain. She could tell that also by the way he squinted his eyes.

"On the riverbank," she answered breezily, as if it was a no brainer.

"Shouldn't we be on the boat?"

"Oh, the boats long gone," she looked down the river as if to check, then nodded, looking back at him. "Yep, long gone."

"Why aren't we on the boat Blaine?" he hissed through suddenly clenched jaws. He tried to sit up, but managed only to make it half way before leaning back on the elbow of his right arm, curving his injured shoulder in slightly.

"Funny thing really." She barely managed to repress a smile.


	4. Ch 3 Fated Meetings

A/N Well, here's the next. Hope you enjoy it. And please review. Review's really mean a lot to me. And sorry if it's little long. lol. Anyways, Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Fated Meeting

"Blaine, I must insist that you let me lead!" Blaine rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic sigh as Darren tried once again to get in front. They had been walking for nearly an hour now and still he was asking.

Really, she wouldn't have minded if he had only asked once, or even twice would have been fine. It would have made for a pleasant walk if he had been quiet. It was a nice day out, the sunlight trickling down through the leaves to dapple the things surrounding her with dancing shadows as the wind whispered through. She could hear birds singing in the woods, lovely little trills of sound that wafted through the pleasant air to tease at her ears. Accompanying the lovely sound was the river, flowing past just feet away, on the other side of the swaying trees. Now if only Darren would leave it be and allow her to walk in peace.

"And I must insist once again that you shut your trap and let me walk." Silence answered, but she knew it wouldn't last for long. If there was one thing she could say about Darren, he was persistent in wanting to do his job right. And according to him, he couldn't do that job right unless he was in front, "protecting" her.

They had spent the night on the riverbank, and if Darren had been conscious, she was sure he would have had a fit about the spot. She had known that sitting on the riverbank, in clear sight of anyone passing along wasn't smart. Darren would have made them head further inland to sleep, away from sight.

Lucky for her, he hadn't. And she wasn't about to drag his unconscious body. She had already done it once, taking him to the shore, she wasn't going to do it again. And he had blistered her ears with curses and reprimands the second he had awoken.

In fact, he hadn't stopped blistering since he had opened hismouth that morning. And really, she wasn't in the mood for it, not at all. Wasn't she a grown woman? Shouldn't she be able to make her own discussions? And hadn't she been training with weapon's nearly non-stop for the past four years? She was quite certain she was capable of protecting both herself and Darren, if the need arose.

It would really be a blessing if Darren would shut up and let her do what she needed to do to get out of the damn woods. Not that she didn't enjoy the woods, no, they were wonderful. But she wanted to get to the capital so she could meet with Gainel again.

"Really, it would be better for your protection if I was in the front. If someone were to attack us from the front, you could get hurt. You could die!" Darren's voice was starting to edge towards annoyance, but that wasn't near as close as hers was getting, or would get if she didn't sensor it.

"It's highly unlikely anyone will attack us from the front, Darren, for the simple fact that we're not on the road. We're trailblazing. Someone would have to be trailblazing directly towards us from other parts of the woods in order to attack us. And besides that, because we're making our own trail, it would be more likely that someone would attack from behind, having seen our trail and followed us. Therefore, you are doing the most good behind me!"

She huffed out a breath and used her sword, cutting off a branch that was hanging in her path. So what if she swung at it a little harder the necessary? She just wanted to make sure that she made it easy for Darren, being hurt and all.

"But—"

"Darren! What's so bad about me leading the way? With your shoulder the way it is, and your side, you wouldn't be able to cut a way through."

"But you're bad at it!" the agonized outburst had her own anger vanishing instantly. Instead of yelling, like she had felt like doing before, she laughed, throwing her head back and enjoying the sensation of it.

"How am I bad?"

"You haven't looked back at me once! The leader should look back to make sure that the followers are keeping up."

Laughing again she replied, "I don't have to look back. You haven't shut up since we started."

"That doesn't matter. You should have looked back anyways! It's important to the success of the mission."

Fixing a cross-eyed stare on her face, she turned back and stuck out her tongue at him before facing front again and continuing. "There. Is that better?"

"Much better," the dry reply had her laughing once more.

"Don't worry, Darren. I'll get us to a town, nice and safe. Well," her voice filled with deep satisfaction. "Speak of the devil!"

"Who?"

"Never mind, look! We've made it!" with a final cut, she pushed out of the woods and into the direct sunlight, making her hair turn golden. She met Darren's gaze as she smiled brilliantly at him.

"See? I told you I could do it! Won't doubt me next time, will you?"

"Whatever you say. Now come one, I want to collect our stuff. I'm hoping the captain of the boat would have left them here for us. Then we can get some money and make it to the capital, relatively soon," he gave her a quick smile before stepping in front of her and starting into the town.

* * *

Blaine's first look at the capital was through a hazy fog of fatigue. She was certain under other circumstances, had she seen it while fully rested, her breath would have clogged in her throatby the renaissance fell to it and look of the sweeping towers and stone walls.

It was like something right out of her history book, if she had been given one instead of a tutor. What with the surrounding stone wall for protection, and the look out towers. The green green fields and training areas. The massive stable and then the smaller inner castle buildings for lodging and quick access stores. All of it would have swept her into a world of fantasy.

But as it happened, when she rode up to the majestic gilded gate with its arched top and leafy pattern around the edges, she was barely alive on her horse. She had only made it to the gate because Darren had taken her reins to guide her horse. Tied around her wrist were the reins to the three packhorses carrying her luggage.

She could still remember his shocked expression when he had seen all the trunks and bags she had packed. But she was coming to live at Tortall for nearly four years. And a girl, especially a princess, had to have lots of clothes. To be caught in the same dress twice was worse then death. She had heard it before in her earlier life but nothing compared to what it was here. She had seen girls in court nearly torn to shreds over matters such as these.

So, Darren could gawk and squabble about the luggage all he wanted. But she wouldn't budge on it. Not a bit.

"Who are you?" the voice shook her from the thoughts and she looked up from where she had fallen against the horses neck, lifting her head just enough that she could see the armored guard leave the gate house to speak to Darren. He left the little wooden door open leading into a little room and inside she could see another man, seated at a wooden table, playing with a deck of playing cards, his helmet on the table beside him.

What lovely place Tortall was, she thought as Darren took out the royal papers stating who they were as well as displaying the royal seal. Tusaine was more exotic, with plants and cultures she was more likely to find in India. The expanse of the river separating the countries, though small, had an amazing effect. The climate changed rapidly from hot to mild. Like traveling fromIndia to Englandin a few square miles. It was strange, but she liked it. She had always enjoyed olden days England. And coming here, to Tortall was wonderful for her. Like living in a history already past.

"Well, go on through then." She felta jerk as Darren's horse began inside, then gave a sleepy wave at the guard who stared at her as if she was a two-headed monster. She frowned but was too tired to ponder over it as she let her head fall back to a rest against the horse's neck.

The trip to the stables, and later, into the set of rooms that had been assigned to her didn't register much. She felt like a zombie inside her own body. That was the last time she would take three night-watch shifts in a row. Of course, Darren hadn't known she was taking three in a row. He had thought he was the one doing the night watching.

But they had been traveling fast, and hard, and it wasn't good for the healing process on his shoulder and side to lose so much energy from lack of sleep.

So, she had pretended to sleep, lying on her side, her back to Darren, her eyes wide open. To keep herself awake, she had gone over all the lines she could remember from past movies she had played in. Surprisingly she remembered a lot. And once Darren had dosed off to sleep (which didn't take very long) she had gotten up and continued the watch in his place.

Now, slipping out of her dress until she was in just her shift, she crawled under the blankets of her bed and allowed her weary body to rest.

Darren, turning away from unpacking his things and placing them in the set of drawers that had been assigned to him, looked at her face and shook his head. The girl was not made for travel, he decided. The fact that she had been asleep on her feet for more then half the hurried journey here was proof of that.

A sudden loud knocking on the door made him cringe, and he looked to his weary mistress, but she didn't so much as stir. Her breathing remained even, her hand remained curled beside her cheek on the pillow, and her eyes remained closed.

Tip-toeing, he slunk out of the room and into the next, the sitting room, and opened the door to see a tallish man standing in front of him. His curly red hair was disarrayed, and as the young man ran his right hand furiously through it, Darren understood why.

The dark look in the blue eyes had Darren shifting, uninjured arm reaching for his sword, as he angled his body to be the best blocker if the man tried to force entry. But it appeared he needn't worry.

"Is this the Princess Marissa's chambers?" the man asked, dropping his hands and perfecting his posture. Darren watched as the man willed away his anger and tried to regain calm.

"Who are you?" Darren's tone was sharp, and fiercely protective, something the strange man admired greatly.

"I'm Sir Knight Merric of Hollyrose. The Princess's knight master. These are her rooms, correct?" Merric watched as the man eased slightly, but didn't relax completely and now he respected him. The man had the makings of knight, and he wondered almost immediately why he wasn't one. And if he wasn't one, why did he carry a sword?

"Correct. I'm her bodyguard, Darren. But the princess is sleeping just now; you'll have to come back later. Or would you like to arrange a meeting?"

"Just as I thought," Merric muttered and ran his hand through his hair again. It was just like a princess to spend the day sleeping when she could be out training like Merric had intended to do. This was just one more strike against her.

Granted, she had just returned from a long journey, she had barely been settled in her rooms when he knocked, he was certain. But he had expected as her being a knight in training that she wouldn't be lazing about. Or more, he had known that she was a princess and had hoped to find her lazing about so he could find fault in her. Which he had, and which made him feel slightly gloated with satisfaction.

"I would like to meet her in two hours, in the corridor leading to the west entrance of the king's royal garden. You do know where that is?"

Because Darren didn't, Merric spent the next five minutes explaining, then turned sharp on his heel and walked away. He would spend the two hours waiting for the princess to wake from her nap plotting how to make the princess's upcoming training session a living nightmare, he decided darkly with a certain spring to his step.

* * *

She came awake to the faint smell of lavender and the sound of wind playing through trees, making the leavesrustle as they brushed against each other. A hand, a soft one, soft like silk, brushed across her forehead. All the fatigue she had felt the second she had awoke drifted from her and disappeared into the air.

"Gainel," she whispered and continued to lay with her eyes closed, her entire body remaining relaxed. She allowed a dreamy smile to caress her lips and the liquid sleep to slug through her veins. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This one won't cost you more then a question or two." He smoothed his hand over her forehead again and she could picture his beautiful face, his smile like wildflowers blooming on a spring morning, the dew rolling slowly off the soft petals.

"Ask away."

"Did you enjoy the taste of the mission that was sent to you?" Her muscles wanted to tense at the words, but found that they couldn't. In all actuality, she had forgotten all about the quest. Once the arrows had started flying, all she had thought about was that. Not getting shot, not getting Darren shot again, getting off the boat, getting to shore. Then the unimaginable stress levels on the way to the capital hadn't helped at all. Quite frankly, it had been the last thing on her mind, and had only flitted in and out of it breifly once Darren had been pronounced safe and alive.

But now that she remembered, she brought her memories of the trip to the forefront of her priorities and began examining, searching for even the slightest inkling of what that taste could have been. She had expected it to be sweet, exiting, an igniting of the adventurous spirit within her. And for just that reason she spent several moments in silence wasting her time.

Finally she sighed andallowed a frown mar her face. "To be honest, Gainel. After Darren got shot with that arrow, the whole mission slipped my mind. I can't remember whether I liked it or not. I was just too focused on getting Darren to safety and getting away from those people with the freaky death eyes. Please forgive me."

"That is answer enough for me Blaine. Now, my dear, what did you think of those death eyes? Quite something weren't they?" His voice was different then it had been before. Blaine tried to focus on it, tried to figure out what had changed and what it meant, but instead her mind changed directions on her, and suddenly she was remembering those eyes, those horrible deadly eyes.

"They were something alright. Something scary. I died, Gainel. When I looked into those eyes, I saw my own death. And it wasn't pretty," she felt a warning stir in her stomach and knew that the panic was coming. She couldn't seem to think about it without that little panic creeping up on her. To dispel it, she gave a little laugh. "On the bright side, I didn't go easy. I fought to that last. Proves I have a little courage left after all these years."

"You're going to need a lot more before the end of this, Blaine. You know that don't you?" Blaine heaved in air for a sigh and the soothing lavender filled her nostrils. She felt her body relax once more.

"I know, Gainel. I think I can rustle some up, if I really try." She replied with a strong southern accent, and gave a crooked lop-sided grin, one she imagined on a rugged handsome cowboy trying to sweep his cowgirl of her feet. The thought made the grin just a little bit wider.

"Good. Listen up, now, Blaine. I have two things to tell you. The first is this." He paused to take in a breath and she braced. "Those men you saw, the ones with the death eyes, they _are_ the mission. Well, part of it. No, wait for me to finish," he smoothed his hand over her brow once more and she felt the words that she had struggled to hold back die away.

"In part, those men are connected to the mission by a spell. This spell that I speak of is inside one book. A book that belongs in a set. A set of three. This is where the first part of your mission begins. In the library here in the palace, in the expanse of all the books, is a reference to the information that I have just relayed to you. Find it, Blaine. And find it as soon as you can."

"What? Out of all the books, there's just one? How am I supposed… there have to be millions if the size of the palace is any… you're crazy! You're out of your mind, crazy! I can't read all those books by myself!"

"You don't have to read all of them, Blaine. Just enough that you find the one that you need. As for the second thing I have to tell you, Blaine, do you remember Chris?"

Blaine's entire body jerked, and pain lanced through her, as if a hot blade had sliced her somewhere. Deep in her mind, a door that had been locked and sealed tight cracked around the edges.

His face, she could see it, smiling at her with what she thought was so much love. His eyes, how they sparkled, and his hair, how it curled. She had always loved his hair, had loved to run her hands through it. It had always been so soft, so silky and smooth. And so red! Looking at his face, she saw his mouth form words. Three words. Three words that had the ability tocut deeper then could a million. I love you.

"No. NO!" she shouted it. And slammed that door closed. It hurt, it still hurt so much. She felt Gainel try and smooth his hand over her again, but she shoved it away and rose to her feet. Green eyes opened wide and stared, fixated on something, anything, as long as it filled her brain and not him. She could handle seeing him again. Not yet. It was too soon. Why did he think she had blocked it all away? Why did he think she hadn't allowed herself to think about it all these years? Because it hurt. It hurt! And for him to pull that door back open so easily...

Turning her back on Gainel, she paced, rubbing her left hand along the back of her neck, unconsciously trying to ease the tension that gathered. A chance look in the mirror in front of her had her smoothing out the grimace on her face. "Why do you ask about…" her voice faltered on his name and she had to swallow past the lump in her throat. "About him?"

"Blaine, it happened four years ago! You have to let it go. You have to if you want to succeed with the mission. Please, for my sake, and your own, let it go. Forgive and forget, isn't that how you say it?"

"Nothing to forgive, and nothing to forget. Not like we made a promise to each other. Obviously, to him, it wasn't what it was to me. I'm over it, Gainel. It's over. But why do you ask?"

"It's time to go meet your knight-master, Blaine. Don't forget about the library, or about what I told you!" she heard the knock on her door, but knew if she turned away he would disappear.

"Wait! What about Chris? Why did you ask about him?" The knock came louder, more insistent, more irritating. She cursed and stomped to the door, flinging it open. Her voice was loud and snapping like a wipe as she spat. "What?"

Her curse was right on the heels of the harsh word as she turned away from Darren standing with his hand raised to knock. But Gainel was gone, leaving behind him a faint scent of lavender and a door in her mind that wouldn't stay closed no matter how hard she pushed.

"Oh! You're awake! Good, I told Sir Merric that we would meet him at the hallway leading to the garden soon. Would you like to…change… Blaine what's wrong?"

Darren stepped into the room, putting hishand to her pale cheek, checking for fever. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her face was white and her eyes were haunted. "What is it? What happened? Did someone get in here? Was it those men from the boat?"

Blaine gently pushed his hand away and made an effort to calm herself. In a teasing voice she explained. "Just a silly little dream was all. I'm fine. Did you say were off to meet my knight-master?" at Darren's hesitant nod, she gave him a beautiful smile and pushed him out of the room. "Well, shoo then! I have to get dressed, don't I?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Blaine floated from her bedroom into the sitting room where Darren was polishing the leather of his sword sheath. When he looked up, she gave a little twirl, so the skirt of her dress flared. "How do I look?"

She knew just how she looked. Hadn't she spent the past ten minutes making sure everything was perfect? She had chosen a heavy velvet dress the shade of green that patched her eyes. For a twelve year old, it suited perfectly, with a modest square neckline that left just a hint of collarbone to tease. The sleeves fit to her tone arms down to her elbow where it loosened up into bell sleeves so just the tips of her fingers poked out. The bodice of the gown was tight, pushing up the little cleavage that she had developed at twelve. A thin braided belt of rope dyed golden rested on her hips and separated the tight bodice from the skirt that puffed out just the slightest and fell down to the tops of her feet, covered in matching silken shoes.

As for her hair, she had left most of it free to fall softly down past her shoulders and curl in loose waves. Two longs strands of hair at her temples she had braided and tied at the back with a matching green ribbon. All that was missing was her crown to perfect her image of princess. Which is what she wanted. She wanted everyone to look at her and say, "All she needs is a crown."

"You look… beautiful, Blaine. Like the little princess you are. But shouldn't you be dressing in your work clothes? I got the impression that Sir Merric wanted to train today."

"Not when I'm threw with him he won't," she quipped before snorting and walking back into her dressing room to sit at her table before the mirror and apply some quick makeup. Darren followed her and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her.

"What do you mean by that?" She glanced at him in the mirror and saw that his face was puzzled.

"Darren, do you remember back a few years when I was going through etiquette teachers pretty fast?" She saw him give a ghost of a smile.

"Yes, couldn't seem to keep one for more then a week. Because of that…" she smiled, tipping her chin down so she looked like a wolf closing in on its prey.

"Because of the game. You remember that too, don't you?" She had started taking etiquette classes her second year in Tusaine. And she had found it mind-numbingly boring. So, to take of the edge, she had devised a "game". Each time she came into the class she had taken on a different persona, pretending to be someone from one of her numerous movies. Darren's job had been to conform to her role and do his best to help her drive the teacher crazy. It had been amazingly fun, as she had played quite interesting roles, her favorite of which had by far been the bipolar insane asylum escapee.

"Yes, I remember that too. You werevery good at it, Blaine. And it was fun," he laughed now, thinking back on those good old days. "What about them?"

"I had the sudden urge upon waking up to play it again. Don't you think that would be fun, Darren? Just like old times." She leaned a little closer to her mirror to smooth onTusaine's version of modern day lipstick in the shade of soft pink.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, etiquette class was a waste of time, obviously. I could have shown you everything in two hours. But you're knight-master? That's a big deal, Blaine. A very big deal," she saw him frown and rub at his chin, a sure sign that he was undecided.

Playing her looks to her advantage, she turned in her chair. She pouted out her lower lip, let it tremble the slightest. Big green eyes pleaded with him behind a thin film of tears a bat of the eyes would send sliding down her cheeks any second. "Please?"

She saw him weaver, and allowed the thin film of tears become a thick one, allowed her chin to join in the trembling and saw the instant his resolve crumble. "Okay, but only if you tell me why."

"I won't lie to you, Darren," she told him as she turned back to check to see if the tears had messed anything. She thought briefly of her plans to disgust her knight-master to the point that he gave up all hope on her and left her to her own devices so that she could sneak away and work on the mission in the library. And smiled at him. "The trip here was horribly boring. A girl needs a little excitement now and again. So com'on! Let's get started!"

* * *

Blaine laughed, grabbing onto Darren's arm, as he relayed one of their many adventures playing that game in etiquette class. She wrapped her arm around her stomach as it contracted with her laugh, hunching over slightly. "And then, remember? You grabbed that huge book—it had to be a thousand pages long—and threw it right out the window! When it was still closed! I thought the teacher would faint if he didn't run out of the room screaming!"

Darren laughed himself as he turned the corner and entered the hall leading into the gardern. He could hear voices, though he couldn't make out any words, so he motioned for Blaine to stop her laughter. She did so at once. If they wanted the game to work, they had to come into it without a hint of expression on their faces until Blaine had decided her role and jumped on it. Then he would take his cues from her.

Blaine looked down the hallway, wanting to get a look at her knight-master to gauge how she was to approach the situation. She remembered everything about the role she had created while sitting on the riverbank nearly two weeks ago. But she couldn't be hasty about anything. She had to ease into it. First, she would blush, yes that's it. As soon as she was close enough to really see his face, and for him to see hers, she would blush and stare down at her feet. And the second he spoke to her, she would give an extremely obnoxious and an extremely loud giggle.

When she imagined herself doing that, she saw herself wearing a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, her hair done in braided pigtails, thick black framed glasses falling off her nose, and her teeth in braces. Quite differnt then beautiful image she displayed, but it made hermotivation rise to see itportrayed in such a hilarious contrastingway.

A warning sounded in her head suddenly, one long, high wail. There were two people. Standing in the corridor waiting for her. Two people. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. She could see them, just barely. Enough to know, though. One, obviously a female from the body shape, was leaning her back against the wall. Her head was tipped back to stare into the eyes of the man leaning over her. One hand was at her side, the other twisting a strand of hair in a classic flirtatious move. She should know; she'd used it thousands of times before.

The male, typical of him, was leaning over her, one hand pressed flat against the wall above and slightly to the right of the girl to hold his weight. The other hand had been as his side, but as she watched, it rose and smoothed down over her arm, then rested on her hand, not quite holding it but linking them together. His head bent closer to hers as she said something until they nearly touched. Red hair blurred next to the sunny blond of the girl.

Darren gave a cough in the quiet of the hall, and the man, startled, looked up. Blaine, who had been studying the expression on the girls face, they were close enough now that she could nearly make out the pretty features, followed the movement so she was staring into the man's eyes.

She felt her heart pull and that door in her mind spring open. As a torrent of memories crowded out and into her conscious thoughts she felt her heart, in all it's painful existence thump madly. And then she was out of her body, looking at herself from above as she stood there, like an idiot, in the middle of the hallway.

_Thump. _She saw herself come to a stop, saw her shoulders hunch as if to ward of pain.

_Thump. _Saw herself clutch at herchest, at her heart,as it split apart as it had so long ago, as if it any second the pain would become too great and it would rip from her chest.

_Thump. _Saw herself fall to her knees, her body broken to the floor, her forehead pressing into the stones.

_Thump._ Saw her body shake as great, gut-wrenching sobs tore through the air.

_Thump. Thump. Thump, _went her heart. In all its agony, she was faintly surprised that it still worked.

"Blaine?" She blinked once, and found herself still standing, perfectly still, her arm still in Darren's. All she had just seen, of herself, had been illusion. "Something the matter?"

_No, _she whispered in her mind, an anguished sound so tortured in its twisted path. The echo of it was washed away by so many memories, so many. All of them false in their happiness. All naïve in their belief that it could last, that he really did love her.

In her mind, as she stared at the man before her with eyes fast filling with things better left concealed, she saw. There he stood, before her and in her mind. One and the same they smiled at her, that first, tentative smile, the one that had first captured her heart. The heart that's pieces lay scattered.

With a barely audible cry, she turned her head to the side, fast, causing her hair to wipe around into her face, shielding it. She squeezed her eyes closed tight as her hand fisted, nails digging into the flesh on Darren's arm. And she pushed, at the memories, at the pain, at the utter sense of shame that poured over her. Pushed until she could control it.

"Blaine!" Darren shouted it and grabbed her shoulder in a fierce grip, and pulled her around in front of him. He dislodged her hand from his arm and grabbed her chin, forcing her face up so he could see it. He squeezed her chin until she opened her eyes, until he could see the tears and the clouded emotions. "Tell me what's wrong, right this instant!"

One tormented whispered word was her response. "Chris."


	5. Ch 4 You're Too Kind

A/N Here's a little something for the weekend! Please Review!

Chapter Four: You're Too Kind

"Who the hell's Chris?" Merric heard the bodyguard shout and breathed a sigh of relief. When he had first seen her face, his squire's, its beauty had blown him away. The eyes, those emerald jewels had sparkled with an inner light. And the lips, those soft pink petals on her face… Well, his thoughts had gone too far too fast.

But as he had watched, that light had died, and the look that had entered them had chilled him to the bone. Her eyes had looked so lost, so forlorn, like someone had dragged her out to sea and left her there, alone and lonely, stranded with nothing but the hurt of betrayal. He had stepped forward, past Claire who had been flirting shamelessly with him earlier, wanting to help. Wanting to bring back that light. So he could make his move on her.

A foolish gut reaction, he thought now as he watched the pair, one that he would check from now on. He wouldn't be affect by her face, but only by how well she was as a squire. He had too.

For one thing, she was only twelve, ten years younger then him. That was way too much of a gap for him, if he had wanted to cross it. Which he didn't. One glance at a pretty face wasn't enough for him to prey on a little girl. And for another, she was his squire. So even if she had been older, and really as beautiful as he thought, he couldn't "make his move" as he had first thought he wanted to. Besides, next time he saw her face, he was certain she wouldn't be nearly as beautiful as that first. She probably had several flaws that he hadn't caught a glimpse of yet.

He tuned back in when Darren yelled, "Princess Marisa De Veinto! I will march your little butt right back to Tusaine if you don't tell me right now who this 'Chris' is! Do you hear me, girl? You're not too old, or too royal for me to do it and you know it. So spit it out!"

He saw the girl jerk right out of the man's grip and shudder. He saw the fine ripples of it all down her back, right through the legs to her feet. She gave a quick shake of her head and then she spoke.

"What?" her voice was musical and fine, a little out of breath it seemed. But all in all the effect on him was amazing. He felt as if he would give her anything to hear her voice again. With a shake of his head he stared at the back of her head. It was a siren's voice, that's what it was. And everyone knew a siren's voice was deceiving. He wondered what hers was hiding.

"You said 'Chris'."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I said 'Christ'. Not Chris. What's the matter with you're hearing, Darren?" She smoothed down her hair with slender hands, patting it back into place, then did the same with her skirt before clasping her hands together in front of her and looking calmly back up at Darren.

Blaine could feel his eyes on her back, staring at her. Noticing her. Recognizing her? Was it really Chris? Was it even possible? What god would have the guts to take a slime-ball cheater into this world? What God would corrupt such a peaceful place that way? But she didn't want to look. Didn't want to check to make sure it was really him. Was afraid down to her very core that it _would_ be him.

"Well then, who's Christ?" Blaine stared up at Darren, temporarily shocked. How could he not know who Christ was? After all, he was only the savoir of everyone.

"He's Go…" she stopped before she said too much. Think Blaine! She yelled in her mind. She took one deep breath and grounded herself. Chris, if it was even him, would not have this much power over her. She wouldn't let him. Get back into your role, Blaine, she scolded. Get back into the Princess's mind. You're not on Earth anymore. You're in Tortall. They've never heard of Christ or God for that matter. They worship more then one god.

"It's a figure of speech," she said finally and clenched her hands in front of her until the knuckles turned white when she heard Chris chuckle. She knew that sound, knew just what to say to make him laugh. And because of that she ignored the way her heart tugged. He was nothing—NOTHING—to her now.

"Who's? I've never heard it before!" Darren continued, his eyes watching her face sharply, trying to puzzle out what was wrong with her. What had happened to her. He had never seen that look on her face before, the one that had been there seconds before. And like a chalkboard, she had wiped it clean. But like a chalkboard, the shadow of it remained, in her eyes.

"Mine. Sheesh! If I've heard it, then you've heard it. Now you're losing you memory? First you're hearing, now this? What's next? You gonna go blind on me?" she gave him a reassuring grin and a wink, hoping he would catch onto the signal.

Despite what she was feeling inside, she had an obligation to Gainel. She had to put aside her own feelings and get down to business. And the first order was the game. She squared her shoulders and braced.

Turning she looked at Chris. "I'm sorry? It's rude to listen in on other people's _private_," she snapped out the word like a curse, "conversations. Who are you?"

She watched the reaction on his face. And it occurred to her, instantly, that this was not the same person. This was not Chris. Chris would have responded with icy indignation at his person being turned down. He had been a famous actor for many years, and because of that, he expected to be known anywhere and everywhere. No, he would never have stood for her words. And maybe that was why she had said them.

But as she watched, this person, he sparked with anger. She saw it in his eyes. And then heard it in his voice. Like a cat it growled out through his mouth, lashing at her through the air. No, this wasn't Chris, not unless he had changed drastically over the years.

"I'm Sir Knight Merric of Hollyrose. I'm your knight-master. It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Marissa," he gave a bow, temper snapping in his every movement. In a sick sense of determination, she picked at it further.

Instead of returning the bow with an even lower one, as she knew squires were expected to do so, she gave instead a regal nod, one a princess would give in response to a bow.

"Peasant," she said in return to his greeting then gave a little yawn, covering it with one dainty hand. She saw the temper, like a tiger in his eyes, rise up for an attack and turned to Darren, using her own eyes until it seemed to others that he was the only on in the hallway that she was aware of. Or willing to acknowledge. "How long did you say this would take? I would like to return to my room. All these… dirty," she gave a meaningful glance to the side, her sweeping gaze passing over the woman and Merric, dirty clothes from training included, before returning to Darren's eyes. "things."

"Excuse me?" this came from the girl. With a sharp move, Blaine looked at her. In body maybe, the girl was older. But in spirit Blaine had a whole world of years on her. She gave her a fast look over, one that tore at her like knives.

"I was told we were going into the garden, dear," the words alone should have been nice, but the tone, so cold, so disdainful, was not. And assured the girl that that was not at all what she had meant

"Just who do you think you are?" the girl exclaimed, stepping forward, her hand traveling to her hip, to the sword there, in a threatening gesture. Blaine looked at the move but reacted with a blank stare.

"Why, I thought the difference in attire made it obvious. Forgive me from being rude, but I don't think I know who you are." She lifted one brow in a cold display of vague interest. She had to give her points, for the girl rose to the occasion, shrouding herself in as much dignity as she could muster. To bad, Blaine thought with an inner frown, to bad she had to be crushed.

"I'm Claire of Waterrock, Squire to Sir Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan. And, former squire to Sir Knight Merric," her voice was thick with pride.

"Oh, well. That's nice," she flicked her eyes briefly over her once more before turning to Darren. One quick look in his eyes and she knew that she had gone to far. She could see it. He didn't appreciate this game anymore. Before, she had never gone so far as to humiliate anyone in such a cold and unfeeling way. Up until now, she was quite certain, Darren didn't believe her capable of such cruelty.

For a single moment she felt remorse at the loss of innocence in his eyes, for that was exactly what it was, but she had to do this. Had to. If the look in his eyes cut just a little, it was just one more piece of her heart that got knocked loose. It was becoming all to easy for her to shake it off.

But whether he condoned it or not, he had agreed to it. He was bound to continue to game. "I believe, Princess, that what she says makes her of some importance to you. You might see each other in training, perhaps."

His voice was sharp, slicing. But she ignored it. "Well, we'll see about that." Suddenly though, she wasn't feeling up to the game either. She wasn't feeling up to anything. In fact, she was feeling quite sick. It rushed up upon her like a tidal wave, fast and deadly, and she fought not to drop to her knees with it.

"Darren, dear, I've left something in my room. I'll need it for this… training." She paused to give a cold look to Merric. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my rooms to get it. Please explain everything to my bodyguard while I am away. He'll relay it to me later."

She gave another regal nod and spun on her heel. Immediately she felt the hatred that they spewed out at her while she had her back turned. The notion of turning back and catching them in it occurred to her, but really, what use would it be? Let them have this. After all, with the character that she had just built for herself, it seemed she would be taking everything else.

Blaine pushed her hair behind her shoulders and strode off, her back straight, her bearing proud and secure in her place as princess. It wasn't until she was around the corner that she allowed her shoulders to hunch and her arms to wrap around her rolling stomach. Pressing her suddenly pounding head against the cool stones, she listened to what they would say once she left. As she expected he would, having such a strong sense of honor and justice, Darren spoke first.

"I'm deeply sorry for the Princess's attitude. There is no excuse for it, none at all. I only hope you can accept that she was—is—extremely tired right now and that she won't be this way tomorrow. Again, I'm truly sorry for this."

Why lie to them, Darren, she thought as she suppressed a whimper as her head gave a hard throb. Of course she would do it to them again. Again and again and again until Merric gave it up. The mission came first, far before anyone's pride or honor. Including her own.

"I don't care if she's tired or not! Give me three minutes and I'll thrash her good! Dismissing me like that, that witch! I'm a lot better then she'll ever be! Isn't that right, Merric?" His automatic agreement was fast and not at all untrue. Blaine felt a slight punch in her gut.

Even here and now he was putting someone before her, she thought then nearly stamped her foot in frustration. That was Merric! Not Chris! Two different people even if they did share a face. So if Merric wanted to put someone before Blaine, far be it from her to complain or feel hurt. He could put the entire world before her and she wouldn't even flinch!

"Shall we go into the garden, as planned? Blaine will come for us when she has changed into her work clothes. Meanwhile, you can explain to me how the squire situation will work," Darren was sure to use his soft tone, as a way to apologize further. She knew it and was sorry for it. He was taking the brunt of the burden because she had left him there.

But the mission came first! Above people's feelings and emotions. Even her own. To prove it she would go to the library and get started right away. After all, she did have quite an impressive amount of reading to do. Blaine waited for the sound of their retreating footsteps before she attempted her own.

She made it three steps before she had to stop and rest her head against to stones once more. The fatigue that her short nap had dispelled was creeping back up on her. And fast.

"I'll just rest for a moment," she murmured to herself as sweat popped up all along her brow. She whimpered.

* * *

Nealan, passing down the hall, on his way back to the healing ward, heard her whimper. And as a healer, natural born and years trained, he couldn't turn away from it. As the sound came again it was easy for him to follow it to the source. And what a pitiful sight that greeted him.

She was standing nearly folded over, her head against the stone, pressing hard. Her knees were bent halfway, her stomach nearly touching the tops of her thighs. Her arms were wrapped around the stomach, as he assumed it was the source of the problem, and her small hands gripped her elbows tight. Her eyes were shut, and her face was strained.

"That can't be a comfortable position. Would you like me to help you to the healing ward?" Neal asked and was surprised when she jumped, even more surprised when she stood up at her full height, which wasn't as much as he had expected, and straightened her back. Her posture was at once regal and proud, while at the same time, he could practically see the pain she was undoubtedly feeling. Though she must have known he had seen her in such an unseemly position she met his eyes with her own without flinching.

That was how he would remember seeing, for the very first time. Not hunching against the wall like a wounded animal, but standing straight and tall. Her hair shone like liquid golden coins in the natural sunlight streaming down from windows high up the walls, and her eyes, those emerald jewels, sparkling like some sort of magic. Her face was free of inhibition and beautiful in its naked pain but utter dignity despite it. He could see the makings of a wonderful queen within her. For a girl of just twelve he could see that the potential of lifetimes dwelled within her.

He took a step forward, prepared to meet the lovely young princess, for surely this was the Princess of Tusaine. Only royalty could appear as she did before him, so regal and defined. But then she pierced him with a stare. Their eyes locked and he felt like he had been punched in the gut by a heavy dose of reality.

He had to blink several times as he stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It was hard for him to comprehend, and even when he did he wasn't sure he was correct.

She had the body of a twelve year old, but looking into her eyes was like staring at a grown woman. A grown woman that was fully aware of the fact that she was in a body to young for her. But that was… impossible. It had to be. How could a full-grown woman look out from the eyes of one so much younger? It wasn't possible.

Then she blinked and like a flash, that grown woman within the eyes was gone. But he could still see the wisdom and knowledge she left behind. And though he couldn't see the woman he had the distinct feeling that she was still there living inside her.

As he stared into her eyes he was reminded of something he had once said. He had once believed that Kel had the oldest eyes he had ever seen. But now, now he knew different.

He watched, with a bit more then just a little awe as she tried to step forward to curtsy for him, but stumbled. Neal caught her under the arms, then shifted her until she was leaning against his side, one of his arms around her shoulders.

"Easy Princess. Don't try to move too much. I'm a healer. Tell me what hurts," he whispered as he began moving swiftly down the hall, towards the healing ward, dragging her smoothly along with him.

"My… head. And my… stomach. I think I'm gonna barf!" she exclaimed and pushed away from him. She slammed into a wall, using her hands to support her up as she answered without words his unspoken question of what exactly "barfing" was.

"Feel better, Princess?" he asked, his arm once more around her, this time her waist to hold her up, as he headed more slowly towards the healing ward.

"A little yes. Please forget all about that. It is very undignified for a princess to be sick. Especially in front of someone. Oh Jesus, I'm so embarrassed. I didn't get any on me, did I?" Blaine felt like crying, she was certain he could see it. But instead, he swept his gaze down her dress and assured her there wasn't a hint at all of what she had just left in the hallway.

When they made it to the healing ward, Nealan deposited her on the nearest free bed. She lay on her back, her hands beside her pressing against the mattress. She closed her eyes and felt the room spin wildly around her like a tornado. The only thing keeping her from flying of the bed and into the swirling mass was the pain that kept her grounded.

Then she felt hands, cool and calm, one on each side of her head, at her temples. Behind her closed eyes, she saw flashes of green light. The pressure and pain in her head grew worse before it got better.

When it was finally gone, she allowed her body to relax. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out the best way to approach this man. It wasn't everyday she let a man she didn't even know watch her puke then help her to a healing ward. And it was even more rare that she allowed a stranger to heal her.

"How do you feel now?" Neal had been watching her for the past several minutes, seeing her puzzle through her thoughts. She was lying just as he had put her, her hands at her sides pressing hard, her head on the pillow. Her hair splayed out around her head, a halo of gold. And her eyes, bewitching to the eye, were calm green seas.

She flicked her eyes over to him and stared at him for several moments before answering. "Better, but even more embarrassed. I can just imagine all the horrible nicknames they would have called me if I ever did that on set," she smiled at him, so he didn't let her know that her words confused him. What was a set? A set of swords did she mean? But… how could she be "on set" of swords?

"May I just say, I've seen my share of princess's in my life, but you have got to be the most beautiful one. Imagine, Tusaine hiding away a gem such as you," he was charmed utterly by her faint blush. It spread over her cheeks, just the slightest hint of pink.

"I'm be pleased to accept your comment, if that is, you could tell me your name," she gave him a dazzling smile and sat up, swinging her legs down to the floor. She had him pegged and in a few more minutes, she thought staring up at him with adoring eyes, she would have him wrapped around her little finger.

"I'm Sir Nealan of Queensgrove. I'm the chief healer here. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness," Nealan stood and gave a sweeping bow then grabbed her hand and gently kissed the back of it.

Blaine, purposely giggling like a little girl, stood and gave him a majestic curtsy in return. Once she had sat on the edge of the bed, she brushed off her sleeves and gave him a sharp nod. "You did a tip-top job of the healing, my good sir! Very commendable. Why, I've near to forgotten I ever had a headache this day!"

"It's because you are no longer tense, my Princess. I'm certain I've never seen one so strong before. What, if I may be permitted to ask, caused such stress?" He gave another bow at the question, but she waved it away before frowning and grabbing at her chin.

Blaine pretended to think, but really she knew exactly what it was that had caused all that tension. It wasn't every day she had a door in her mind open up, even less often that the door that opened was better left closed. Then, seeing the object that was hidden behind the door come to life and standing front of her without recognizing her. No, it was no mystery to her why she had been so tense. But perhaps the true reason was better left inside her mind.

"Well, I suppose I was just so nervous," she fluttered her lashes, imagined herself in a big bell-shaped dress like Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With the Wind. She fancied herself great as the dashing damsel in distress. Because of that, she allowed her eyes to go huge, and just a little watery.

"I was supposed to meet my knight-master today, and I was just so anxious. Oh," she made a little hiccupping sound and stood, abruptly turning away from him and dapping at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. She sniffed and turned back to him, wringing her hands together. "I'm afraid I bungled it horribly! The things I said, oh he probably hates me. But it's not everyday a girl meets the man that she'll be spending every day with for the next four years. She has a right to be a little nervous, don't you think?" Blaine turned to Neal, as if wanting him to answer, but turned away before he could.

"Oh it was terrible. Terrible I say! He'll send me packing for sure! I'll be back in Tusaine within the week, shamed and defeated. I'll forever be known as the Princess Who Couldn't. People will pass me on the streets and spit at my feet. They'll throw rocks at me and call me horrible names. All because I was too nervous to be myself around him. Oh! What have I done?" She turned away from Neal with a flourish and covered her face with her hands, genuinely weeping now, or so it appeared to Neal.

"Now, now, Princess. Don't you worry a bit. I know your knight-master personally, and I'll be sure to explain everything to him. He'll understand. I promise. Come now, cease your tears. I'll make it better, I promise," Nealan placed his hand on her shoulder, felt the fine tremor of soft sobs and squeezed in reassurance.

"You promise?" she allowed the word to break on sob then sniffed daintily after she had finished. She felt the hand on her shoulder squeeze a second time and nearly cackled in triumph.

"I promise. Let me see a smile now. This is no time for tears but for celebration! After all, this is your first day in the palace!" Nealan exclaimed. Blaine wiped two hasty tears off her cheeks and turned to Nealan, her cheeks red, the end of her nose pink and utterly cute. She gave him a watery smile.

"Oh, Sir Nealan, you're to kind," Blaine grabbed his face with her hands and pulled his head gently down to give him two smacking kisses. One on each cheek. "How ever shall I thank you?"

"Allow me to escort you back to your rooms so you may rest. That will be thanks enough," Nealan gave her a satisfied smile and held out his arm for her. Blaine put her small hand on it, just enough that he felt is as if it were a butterflies touch.

Leaving the order with the other healer that if any one was to come looking for him, or her, they would be heading to the lady's chambers, Nealan and Blaine left the ward. _Oh yes_, she thought darkly, _wrapped tightaround that little finger of mine_.


	6. Ch 5 Wake Up

A/N Here you go! I couldn't upload Friday like I wanted to because the site wasn't letting me. But anyways, here it is. I hope you enjoy it and please please PLEASE review me! I absolutely love reviews.

Chapter Five: Wake Up

"Blaine, time to wake up," the voice crashed through a nice little dream Blaine happened to be having at that very moment about sunny skies and fluffy white clouds. She had been sitting on her back on top of a huge green hill watching the clouds float by, calling out the different shapes they had been as the person beside her laughed, soaking up the wonderful sunny rays. That was until a big rain-cloud came and washed her in icy water, the music of which was the sound of Darren's voice.

With a quiet, long-drawn moan, Blaine stretched and burrowed further under the covers until just the tips of her golden hair could be seen. Darren would have laughed and he suspected the shadow following him wanted to do so very dearly. But Blaine, she was… not a morning person. And any laughter of any kind was better left for later. Until she was ready to talk.

"Blaine," he called again, standing with his arms folded across his chest a scowl on his face, his shadow, watching from the door covered its mouth with a work-roughened hand. One hand popped out from under the fluffy covers, the only sign of skin so far, holding up five little fingers, her way of asking for five more minutes sleep.

"No. Get up," his voice was hard. One finger went down.

"Blaine. No!" Three fingers were left now. "Blaine, I said get up." Two fingers. "Blaine." One finger. "No." One! "No!"

"Alright alright! I'm up I'm up!" the hand retracted back into the bed and the mountain of blankets began to quake as Blaine started to rise. Darren watched suspiciously as she stopped looked down, then fell flat with and oaf, hands splaying out to the sides, legs doing the same, until she was spread-eagle across the bed.

"Shift please!" Blaine called. Darren huffed out a breath and picked up the shift from where she had thrown it on the floor sometime the night before. He handed it to her then obligingly turned his back. His shadow did the same.

"Really Blaine. You can't keep doing that. It's not dignified. And anyone could walk in on you naked like that. Even your knight-master for the gods' sakes. Keep your clothes on," Darren's voice was harsh, but behind her back he was grinning, waiting for her response.

"Someone's testy this morning. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed did you? And for your information, if they didn't want people to sleep naked, they shouldn't have made the linens so utterly soft. Is my bath ready?"

The change of topic didn't throw him off a bit. "Hot, just as you demanded it. And they didn't make the linens soft for you to sleep naked. They did it because you're royalty and they feared death because of it."

The slam of the dressing room door stopped their conversation. But only momentarily. Once Blaine was sunk into the hot water and scrubbing, she raised her voice to be heard.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" She scrubbed at one arm, glorifying in the bath. She hadn't been able to do this since two weeks ago, the day she left for Tortall. And having lived on Earth for most of her life, a world where a shower a day was required, her skin had been crawling for thirteen days.

"Why would I be, Blaine?"

"Because of what I said last night. I took it too far, and I know you took the burden for me," now she scrubbed the other arm, from the tips of her fingers working hard to the tops of her shoulder.

"Forget about it Blaine, it's fine. All's forgiven." Darren winked at his shadow as he heard a barely suppressed snort. From the ground Darren gathered up the clothes Blaine had been wearing the night before and began to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Good then. Let's put it behind us. What's planned for today?" Water dripped as she lifted her leg out of the water and washed her feet, making sure to get in-between her toes where the worst of the dirt seemed to be hidden.

"Merric mentioned something about meeting in the mess-hall with Claire, then heading out to do training, which is why I woke you up early. You like to do your morning exercises before breakfast, I know, and I realized you wouldn't have time afterwards." Opening the door of the armoire, Darren hung the now smooth dress in its place.

"That was nice of you," Blaine cleaned slowly between the other toes, thinking. Yesterday had been… well shocking. Seeing Chris—MERRIC—had been shocking. For one thing, she had purposely forsaken all thoughts, emotions, and memories of Chris for the sake of her mental and emotional health. In fact, she hadn't so much as mentioned his name once since that last day, when she had found him in bed with Amanda.

So, to suddenly have it all pulled into the open was a violent surprise. One that she hadn't appreciated at all. If there was one thing that she could wish for today, it would be that she was given a little time before she had to face Merric again. She knew in the state that she was in, if she were to see him now, she wouldn't be able to separate Merric and Chris. If she were to see him today, she would struggle for the rest of her time here to see Chris and Merric as two different people.

So, if there was one thing she wanted, it was to not see Merric today. And if there was one thing she could do, it was to get what she wanted.

"You know, actually, I'm not feeling very up to training today. I was thinking more of a relaxing day in the library," and what a better way to avoid Merric then to spend it working on the mission?

"Not up to training? Blaine, are you feeling alright?" Darren smoothed out the covers on Blaine's bed. He knew that maids got paid to do that sort of thing, but he had gotten into the habit over the years of tidying the room for her himself. After he had been hired four years ago, it had fast become their habit to discuss the day's plans while Blaine was getting ready for the day. And to stave of boredom he had often tidied the room.

"As a matter of fact, yesterday I had a terrible headache. So bad I had to go to the healing ward," she heard Darren's mumble of worry. Oh yes, she was close to reeling him in now.

"It was really that bad? So bad you had to go get a healing? And from a stranger no less? Blaine, what could have caused that?" Darren frowned, certain Blaine could hear the worry in his voice. In all the years he had known Blaine, he could count the number of times she had willingly sought out a healer on one hand.

If he knew anything about her, he knew that she did not like healers. And furthermore, when she did have no other choice but to get healed, she only allowed a trusted healer to do so. For her to allow a stranger to heal her, it was unbelievable.

"This and that. But while we're on the subject, I don't see any reason to bring my healer here from Tusaine. As long as Sir Nealan's on the job, things should be fine," Blaine gave a nod, then ducked her head under that water to get her hair wet.

"Alright then. Blaine, are you almost done yet? You've been in there forever!" Darren grabbed a sword that had been tossed haphazardly into a corner and placed it on a weapon's rack hanging on the far wall.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm shriveled like a prune," she whispered as she lathered her hair with soap. "Change your tune Malone! You're nagging mother act is growing old!"

"Just hurry up in there!" Darren grinned back at his shadow, fully amused by Blaine. She was always like this, and he wanted his shadow to see that, see who she truly was.

Blaine ducked her head under the water for a second time, rinsing out all the soap. Once she was certain it was clean, she stood up and wrapped herself in the larger of two towels. Grabbing the second one, she wrapped it around her head, trapping the wet hair inside, keeping it them from dripping all over the floors.

"Bedroom!" she called out and walked to the door, dancing lightly as her feet touched the shockingly cold floor of the windowless dressing room.

"Sitting room!" Darren called back. He ushered his shadow before him, then stepped into said room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hearing that, Blaine stepped out of the dressing room and into her bedroom. She smiled faintly at the neatness. Darren always managed to clean everything before she ever got the chance too. And sometimes it bothered her. Having Darren always cleaning up all her things made her feel lazy and slobbish. She didn't like that.

"Anyways, about the healing last night," Blaine continued as she grabbed her undergarments from a chest at the foot of the armoire.

"Yes? What about it?" Darren asked, ceasing his search for something to tidy, as he couldn't find anything. Instead, he sat at the edge of a comfortable chair with a sword in his lap and began to sharpen the edges of it.

"Well, you see, Sir Nealan said it was a nasty bugger, likely to come back. Maybe even worse. And you know how I so hate to go to a healer. So, if I were to rest today, don't you think it would be all around best?" reaching into another chest, Blaine withdrew an outfit.

When Blaine had first arrived at Tusaine, she had been utterly enchanted with the outfits that she had been asked to wear. They were straight out of history, those beautiful dresses. Like something she would see on a King Arthur movie, if a good company in Hollywood produced it.

But once she had started to train, it became abundantly clear that those beautiful romantic dresses with their elaborate jewel patterns and tight corsets and layers and layers of petticoats that made her feel just like the princess she was pretending to be weren't made for working in. And the boys' clothes that she had requested of Darren weren't good for it either. They were better by far then the pretty dresses, but they weren't nearly as good as something she could get from the local Wal-Mart back on Earth.

So, she had taken it upon herself to design her own work clothes, and later several other types of clothes. And after the first couple of rough (and completely hideous) sketches she had gotten the hang of it. And after three or four attempts of trying to make her own clothes, she had been able to take both to a professional seamstress and had gotten back a reasonably satisfying result. If other women and men in the court looked at her strangely when she walked by in her clothes, well, she didn't mind. After all, she knew that one day it would be popular. She was simply thousands of years ahead of the time. That was of course, assuming that Tortall would one day evolve to Earth's level.

Today, she slipped on her version of khaki capris pants that slicked up over her legs like a second skin. She frowned at the strain it was to pull them up over her hips, looking down at herself. She didn't remember growing hips so big so soon. At fourteen she had been able to pass as a ten year-old on her third motion picture. This was strange, she thought, still looking down at her pants. She'd have to find a seamstress here who would know how to deal with letting out the hips of her pants, even if they didn't recognize the style.

Well, that was for another day. She'd just have to hope she didn't bust a seam while she was out today. Shrugging, she grabbed a leather belt, again one that she had designed, and slipped it through the belt loops that she had spent hours explaining to a very confused seamstress on the purpose and the shape.

Once that was done, she reached into the armoire and grabbed a dark blue tank top and slipped it on over her head. It came to a gentle rest against her body, long enough to cover her belt and nearly all her hips.

"But why the library?" Darren called from across the room. She frowned, temporarily having lost the train of thought. Going back into the dressing room, she sat at the chair before the mirror and began to brush out her newly washed hair.

"I want to rest in the library instead of just in bed, one, because I'm already up and dressed so it would be a waste of a perfectly lovely bath. And two, because I want to become a well rounded person, which I can do in the library." Once her hair was brushed properly, she crunched it in her hands, giving it volume so it would curl around her face. Then she leaned in to apply a little makeup.

"But the library? There's nothing to do there but read," Blaine laughed, as Darren knew she would, then began to talk him into it, as he known she would do also.

"Oh, don't be such a wimp! A few books won't hurt you. Besides, you can read something interesting, like historic battles, or about weapons. It won't be so bad," finished with her make up, Blaine walked back into her bedroom and to a jewelry box atop a cabinet that had been turned into a stand of drawers.

"Blaine, why do you really want to go to the library? Does this have something to do with Merric? I could tell yesterday, when you saw him that something was wrong. Is it him? Do you know him? Did he do something to you? What is it?"

Huffing out a breath and rolling her eyes, she reached into her jewelry box and took out a braided anklet made of thread dyed different shades of blue. She tied it quickly around her left ankle, giving the ends a sharp tug to make sure it was tied tight. Then, reaching back in she took out a silver chain with a sapphire hanging on it and fastened it around her neck.

"I won't lie to you Darren," she was sure he was rolling his eyes too. He hated when she said that, not because he realized she was lying, but the exact opposite. He could never tell if what she said was the truth, or a lie. "It has nothing to do with Merric and everything to do with something else. Something entirely different."

"Blaine," using his warning tone, Darren stopped what he was doing with the sword and looked up at the closed door.

"I'm serious Darren. Do you… remember those men on the boat?"

"How could I forget them? You were only staring at them for five minutes!"

Outraged, Blaine put down the foot that she had been lifting to put her shoe on with a slam. "I was not staring at them! I was startled. I was trying to get my bearings!"

"I called your name three times before I had to go over there and physically pull you away from them!"

"You did?" puzzled, Blaine slowly slipped on her silk blue shoe. "I didn't hear you," her voice was absent as she thought back to that day. No, she hadn't heard a word that Darren had said. But who could blame her? She had been having a vision of her own death. "Anyways, it's not about that!"

"Then what's it about?"

"Darren, the truth is…" she hesitated unsure of how to say something like this without sounding totally crazy. She decided the best way was face to face. "When I looked into those men's eyes, I saw… I saw…"

She rushed to the door and pulled it open, reading to burst out what she had seen, get it over and done with, like ripping of a band aid.

But when the door burst open, a hideous bell sound shook through the room. At the same time her eyes landed on the one face, the _one_ face she didn't want to see. Didn't want to ever see again.

"What did you see?" Darren asked, once the bell sounds had stopped. They had been warned the night before about the wake up bell, but she hadn't expected that. Just like she hadn't expected him to be sitting in her sitting room, like he had been made to be there. She used shock at the bell sound to cover up her shock at the sight of him.

"Yes, Blaine, what did you see?" Merric asked, watching her, watching as she flinched at the sound of his voice. He had seen it again, just like he had seen it the day before. That light, that beautiful light had been in her eyes. But the second she looked at him, it was gone. Two times in a row was just a little too much for coincidence. He wondered what it was about him that made her close up that way.

"Nothing. Forget it," Blaine snapped out of her shock, quick, wondering what she should do. Should she keep up the act from the day before? Act cold and snobby like she had? Or could she use her headache as an excuse to change her attitude towards him?

He stood abruptly and she flinched again, drawing her hands into her chest. To cover her action, she grabbed at the sapphire dangling towards her breasts. Best to take the cold attitude. She didn't want him to get the impression he could be friendly towards her. She didn't want him to be anywhere near her. Best to start driving him off now.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly a change took over her face, a slight tightening of the mouth, her eyelids dropped slightly so they seemed to be gleaming intently, and her skin nearly frosted at the sudden drop of temperature.

"Hello, Peasant," her voice crackled through the air, and Merric could practically see the ice spewing forth in her breath.

"Princess," he returned and rose to give her a bow. Blaine returned it with one jerky nod then turned to Darren, casting her back on Merric, excluding him from the conversation entirely.

"Shall we go to the mess hall, Darren? I'm feeling hungry," she saw Darren glance behind her shoulder at Merric but didn't turn. She wanted, desperately, to ask how much he had heard, wanted, desperately, to howl out her embarrassment when she thought back on what she had said.

Wanted to claw Darren's eyes out for letting him in. And from that little smirk on his face, it seemed he had known all along that Merric had been there, had likely talked Merric into coming here.

Betrayal struck fast and straight to the heart. With the revelation, she looked up at Darren and felt a sudden jab at her temple, the beginning of another headache. Instead of saying anything, instead of accusing Darren, making a scene, throwing a fit she simply looked at him. And that was enough.

Darren's mouth slowly fell open and his eyes sharpened with emotion. He reached out a hand to touch her arm, to comfort, but in a graceful little dance she stepped around him and too the door, walking around him as if he wasn't there.

"Blaine, I'm—" he tried to say, tried to apologize for what he now knew was wrong. He shouldn't have invaded her privacy that way, shouldn't have allowed this man, this horrible two-faced man, look into her personal life. There was a reason that hardly anyone got to see who she really was, there was a reason she played a role in front of everyone. And there was a reason, a very specific reason, that of all people, Merric was the last one she would have wanted to see this. And she had conveyed that all to him in a look.

"Hungry also?" Blaine cut off Darren's speech. She didn't want his apologies, not in front of this man. She could forgive Darren for what he had done, in time, but he would bungle it if he tried to take it back now. She'd let him flounder a bit, as she dealt with her suddenly acute sense of loneliness. Wrapping herself in a shroud of character fabric, the one that she was slowly building for Merric, Blaine swept from the room.

"The mess hall is this way, Princess," Merric called from behind her as she started to head down the hallway. Stopping, she turned back, and saw a snarky look on his face. Blaine decided, in that moment that not only would her character be a frigid Princess. She would be a frigid _bitch_ Princess.


	7. Ch 6 The Duel

A/N Okay, here's the next chapter. I really hope you guys review this one! I'm very upset that so few people have reviewed. This is my favorite (and in my opinion best) story so far that I've written. So I really want you people to give me feed back on this! So please please please! Review!

Chapter Six: The Duel

"I'm sorry, Darren. You'll have to eat in there," Merric said, pointing towards a room slightly to the left of the entrance Merric was poised to pass through. Blaine took one look at that room and nearly screamed. Darren would leave her all alone! With Merric!

"Surely," she said, her voice frosted with ice, "If they allow you to eat with the nobles, Darren should be more then welcomed."

Merric's face flushed with anger and she nearly cackled with glee. Let him see how it feels, she thought darkly, see how it feels to be humiliated, hurt, defeated.

"Sadly, despite what you think of me, which truly baffles me as we've just met, Darren isn't of high enough birth to eat with us. He'll have to eat in the servants kitchen."

"It's fine, Blaine," Darren said, giving her a plastic smile. "I'd like it better in here anyways." He turned his back, starting to head in. In a reflex that all the training and skill in the world couldn't kill, Blaine's hand latched onto Darren's arm.

The look in her eyes was better then words. But there was nothing they could do, she knew. No matter how much she badgered or snipped at Merric, nothing would get Darren into that mess hall, a place reserved for nobles. They both knew it. Because of that, Darren gently patted her arm, then dislodged it and walked away.

Blaine stood, watching after him, yearning with all her soul she could follow him, but knowing she was unable too. She was a princess. It was unsightly for her to be in there. In fact, it was unsightly, so her Tusaine mother had told her once, that she "had such a strong attachment to a commoner."

But could she help it? She hadn't been born to look down upon someone of lower class. Heck, it wasn't like she was the best of the breed anyways. Her real mother had only gotten to the top because of her career as an actress. Her mother had, essentially, used her daughter's fame for herself. So, was it at all unthinkable that she would become so attached to someone who, on Earth, would have been as ordinary as anyone else? No, it wasn't.

And it was times like these, times that class and blood lines separated her from a good man, that she truly disliked the place she was in. It was times like these that she wanted to shout, "Screw it!" and run into that servant's kitchen and sit with Darren for breakfast. But she couldn't. So instead, she stood in the middle of the hallway, staring after Darren like he was her lost little puppy.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know," Merric said softly from where he had come to stand, right beside her. Her head whipped to the side to look at him and she nearly snarled. "So why are you so afraid of me?"

It was because Blaine was so utterly taken aback by his foolish statement—Her? Afraid of him? Was he crazy? Where did he come up with that?—that she was unable to think of something to say back. Luckily, however, she didn't have too.

"Merric!" Blaine cringed even as she saw Merric's face spread into a grin. She didn't have to look over her shoulder. The girl was already running up and flinging herself at Merric, who gave her a hug in return.

Claire. Blaine huffed, rolled her eyes and calmly clasped her hands in front of her to hide her annoyance. This was even worse, she decided, then being stuck with just Merric. Now she was stuck with Merric and Claire. Could this day get any worse?

She nearly, very nearly, winced when a sharp stab of pain ripped across the top of her skull and continued all the way down her neck. However, though she could stop herself from wincing, she couldn't stop herself from sucking in a breath. Claire, hearing the noise, looked over her shoulder and spotted Blaine.

"So," she said, her eyes traveling over Blaine's outfit, "you're still here."

"Yes," Blaine replied, her tone just as cold as Claire had tried to make hers. "Aren't you squired to someone else? Or are you to much of a failure for them to keep you?"

Blaine didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she pushed past her and Merric and entered the room, her chin up high, her eyes ablaze with an inner fire of determination. Inside she may feel alone and a little lost in her new situation, but she didn't let it show. She hadn't spent nearly all of her life acting for such little ends!

When she stepped into that room, however, things didn't seem so bad. Everyone was busy eating. No one had stopped to stare at her, like she was some kind of a freak who didn't know her way around the room.

And if she watched closely enough, it was easy for her to figure out what to do. Over there, at that window, she could get a tray. Then she just followed along the wall until she reached another window with a woman insidewho served her. Then, when she was done with that, she had simply to turn back to the room and find a place to sit.

"Easy as pie Blaine, easy as pie," she whispered, setting off to do just as she had imagined in her mind. And it was as easy said as done. Before she knew it, she was turning away from the server window and scanning the crowded tables for a place to sit. She felt her stomach muscles tighten just the slightest in nerves before she spotted a familiar face and rushed over.

"Nealan!" Blaine gave aflirty giggle and sat directly next to him, sitting so close that she was brushing against him.

"Well, it's the beautiful little princess," Nealan exclaimed before grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it gently. She blushed and lowered her chin so she could look at him through her lashes, flutter them just a little. "How's the head fairing?"

"It's wonderful, Nealan. Just fabulous," she lied through her teeth without batting a lash. And it wasn't exactly a lie. Compared to how it had been yesterday, the headache she had now was wonderful. And she was being sarcastic when she had said it was fabulous. It was up to him whether he believed it or not.

"I'm glad," Neal said before returning to his breakfast. Blaine looked down at her own food. It didn't look all that appetizing but she knew she had to eat to keep up her strength. So, mustering her strength she grabbed up a forkful and shoved it between her lips.

She had barely started to chew when Merric took a seat beside her, Claire across from her. The pain in her head exploded. She felt the food in her mouth turn to sand and a lump in her throat rise so huge she was certain she would never be able to swallow past it. And frankly she didn't want to anymore.

But she did. She swallowed, and it scratched her throat, bruising it. But she wouldn't let him win. With an extra force she shoved another forkful in her mouth and another and another until she had finished nearly all her plate. And when she felt like she would throw up she forced it to stay down.

But she could hear his voice, hear it over the hum of the voices and the loud thoughts she was thinking to drown it out. She could hear the laughter in his voice, the amusement, the affection. The affection for Claire that twisted at her heart, because no matter how hard she denied it or tried to change it, she wanted him to love her. Wanted Chris to love her.

NO!

She slammed her fork down and stood, sweeping from the room with a scowl on her face. No. She didn't want Chris to love her. Not him, never him. After what he had done to her? How could she want him back, how could she still love him after the way he had betrayed her? After the way he had ripped everything that she had needed in her life out from under her? She couldn't. She didn't. _She wouldn't_.

Build a wall, she whispered in her mind, and standing there, blind and deaf to the world around her, she did. She used all the bad memories, the ones that showed what a horrible person Chris was to hold back the good memories. Then she built a room around that wall, built that room out of her memories of Tusaine, of Darren, of a real a life, a real life without the drama, and the cameras, and the false words and emotions.

And for the door, she built it out of common sense. It was common sense to let him go. It was common sense to stop loving him. And it was common sense that he had never loved her at all. And to seal that door, she used her pain.

"Blaine? What are you doing out here?" Darren called. He was wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he left the servant's hall and stood before her, watching her face. She was pale.

"I… I don't… can we please… go to the library?" She didn't have to act on this one. There really was a headache, and it really did hurt enough for her to scrunch her eyes closed and press her fists to her face, trying to push the pain away.

Before Darren could answer, Merric and Clair came swinging out of the mess hall and stopped before them, staring. Blaine's back snapped straight and her hands fell open at her sides. She willed color into her cheeks and then she willed the heat of pain to ice over with hate. She hadn't won three Emmys, two Academy Awards, and four Oscar's for nothing.

"Yes, Peasant?" Blaine hissed, her eyes slitting and her arms crossing against her chest. Cocking a hip and an eyebrow she struck an intimidating pose, one that sent Merric into just the slightest of rages. Who did she think she was, anyways? Wasn't he her knight-master? Didn't she have to do everything he said?

"Come, follow me. It's time for your training," Merric grabbed Claire's arm and they set out in front, leading the way. Darren moved to follow, but Blaine just as quick grabbed his arm also, and looked into his eyes, pleading.

"Please?" she whispered, letting the pain fill her eyes. "Please can we go to the library?"

"I'm sorry, Blaine," he whispered back and squeezed her hand before pulling her after Merric. "But you have to do what he says. It's part of your training."

* * *

It didn't take long for them to get where they were going, but Blaine used every second of the trip to verbally jab at Merric. It wasn't working. Merric, she could tell he was getting angry, had extreme self-control. Instead of lashing out, as she half expected, or giving her icey comebacks, as Chris would have, he simply rolled his shoulders, gave her a plastic grin and kept walking. Why couldn't she get to him? 

"Here we are!" Merric called, entering through a set of double doors, inside was a training ring. The walls were high and the room was big. The floor was made of stone, but in the center of the room was a giant ring. A pit had been dug and filled with soft sand, and a fence had been placed around it. A dueling ring.

To the side of the entrance was a bucket of dull practice swords and thrown over to top of the fence were several protective padding. Merric expected her to duel? With this headache? There was no way she would be able to beat him. Even in tip-top shape it would be a chore, she could tell that much.

"I've decided," Merric boomed, his voice echoing off the cavernous walls, "That you and Claire shall have a duel, to test your strength, of course, and see how much training you have left."

"Of course," Blaine drawled and strolled over to the bucket of blades, her hips swaying seductively. The image of a slinky cat on the prowl entered her mind and she stooped just the slightest, angling her rear towards Merric, to grab her practice sword. When she stood and aimed a low look over her shoulder, the puzzled and slightly uncomfortable look on Merric's face was worth it. Oh yes, she'd give him hell.

"Step into the ring," Merric called. Blaine gave a dainty little yawn, covering her mouth with a slight hand before shrugging and walking slowly towards the ring. Before she could enter, however, Darren grabbed her shoulder and bent to whisper into her ear.

"Don't be an idiot Blaine. Give Merric what he wants," he whispered. Blaine huffed and glared at Merric over Darren's shoulder.

"And why should I?" She retorted with an arched brow.

"Because you've been cutting him down all morning. Now, give him what he wants." Darren hissed. Blaine pulled away before aiming a low look at Darren.

"And just what do you suppose that is?" She fisted her hands on her hips and scowled.

"He wants a squire he can be proud of. Now go! Don't be a fool, Blaine. And get in the ring!" Blaine stuck her tongue out at Darren quick and fast before spinning on her heel. She flicked her hair just the slightest before walking leisurely into the ring, making sure to walk just slow enough that Merric would be infuriated. Claire, who by now was waiting impatiently, just rolled her eyes.

"Get into position," Merric called and Blaine stepped up to Claire, raising her sword in the guard position. When Merric called a start, she looked at his face, saw his eyes flash with pleasure when Claire struck at her sword, and she nearly quailed. No way. It couldn't be. As Blaine began to duel she made sure to keep one eye on Merric and the other on Claire.

Was he…? She wondered as she did a fancy foot maneuver and came out on the advantage. When she struck Claire hard, forcing her back a step, she looked at Merric's face again, saw a frown of displeasure.

No… he couldn't be… she allowed herself to stumble back, watching Merric's face. When Claire struck her hard again, Merric smiled.

He was! She nearly stopped moving in complete outrage. But she wouldn't let him have the satisfaction. Every time she gained the upper hand in that duel, Merric frowned. And every time Claire was on the offense, he smiled. Yes, it was true. He didn't want her to win. He only wanted to humiliate her. So, she'd give him what he wanted. Just as Darren had ordered her to do.

This whole duel had been a tactic to put her in her place, Blaine realized as she looked at Claire, saw the cunning smile on her face. No, she hadn't been meant to win this one, and she realized almost immediately the advantage it gave her. If she lost this, Merric would leave her alone. He would see her unfit as a knight and leave her floundering to her own ends.

And how she wanted to grasp at that, how she wanted Merric to leave her alone. But that stubborn little part of her, that one part that was incapable of letting go, forced her to realize also, that she didn't want to lose. She didn't want to lose in front of Merric, didn't want to lose to this girl who couldn't beat a fly if it was legless, wingless, and seconds from death. No, she didn't want to lose.

But she had no choice.

Best go out with a bang, she thought. As she fake stumbled to the left and allowed Claire an even greater upper hand, she set herself up for the fall. Claire nearly landed a blow to her thigh, which gave the girl all too much confidence.

"Slut," she whispered, just loud enough for Claire to hear, then angled her body so she could be seen, but Claire could not. As she had expected, Claire took a huge swing at her left side, coming down from the right above her head.

Blaine dropped her sword from her right hand to her left. Then, using her arm as a shield, she took the hit on the flesh of her bare forearm at the same time she jabbed the dulled pointed end of her sword into Claire's side.

Together they both cried out. Blaine dropped her sword to the ground completely and fell to her knees, cradling her arm against her stomach, squeezing her eyes closed hard, waiting, waiting. There he was.

She felt the touch of Darren's hand on her shoulder and turned into him, burying her head in the crook of his neck as pain slammed through her arm in rhythm with her pulse. She bit her lip until she was sure it bled, holding back cries of pain.

"Let me see," Darren whispered into her ear, then kissed the side of her head. Slowly, she moved her arm until he grabbed her hand gently and pulled it out, inspecting it.

"Is it broken?" she whispered without moving her head, her hot breath on his neck. She hissed when he squeezed gently, feeling the bone.

"I don't know, can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

"Barely," she whispered but managed to do so. The pain had lessened enough that she was able to lift her head. But she didn't look at her arm. Looking at it made it hurt worse, she knew from experience. Instead, she looked at Claire.

One of her arms was wrapped around her waist. The other was about Merric's. Don't they look cozy? she thought as she waited for the pain to lessen enough that she could get up and leave. She was going to the library now, and nothing was going to stop her.

"Congratulations Claire!" Merric called, and the utter joy and pride in his voice did it. Even though it hurt she stood. And even though she wanted to, she didn't cradle her arm, she stood tall and proud and walked elegantly from the room.

"What was that Blaine?" Darren yelled the second the door to the training room had closed behind them. "You could have beaten her with one hand tied behind your back!"

"I know it," Blaine said quietly, trying to walk away. But Darren grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back. She wanted to get away. The emotions were building in her and she didn't want them there. She didn't want to acknowledge them. She didn't want to know what they were. And the easiest way to get around that was by doing something else. Like reading a book. In the library.

"You haven't made such a foolish move in almost three years! I thought I taught you better then that. Why would you make such a stupid move?" Darren, she knew, was acting mostly out of concern for her. He knew how Blaine hated to lose, so in his own uncomfortable way, he was trying to help her. He, however, was doing a horrible job at it.

"It was the easiest way to lose," she said, her voice resigned. She stopped moving. Darren wasn't going to let her leave so it was best to save the energy for trying once he was done ranting. The pain in her arm had lessoned, but the pain in her head was even greater. Her neck felt stiff as a board.

"What? You _wanted_ to lose? Blaine, why?"

"I was only doing what you told me to do. You told me to give him what he wanted. And that's what he wanted. Yes I could have won, but I didn't." Did he get the picture now, she wondered? Or would she have to explain it all to him.

"Then why didn't you win?" Darren accused, and Blaine snapped.

"Because he didn't want me too!" she screamed and threw up her hands. It was hurt, and betrayal again. Those were the emotions that had been moving inside her. It seemed that wall she had built hadn't worked. He was still there, in her head and in her heart. And though Merric and Chris were two different people, she couldn't separate them, no matter how hard she tried. So Merric picking Claire over her was just another betrayal of Chris's, just another wound in her soul.

"He didn't want me to win, Darren," her voice was low, the guttural sound of a wounded animal. "He didn't want me to. Did you see his face?" Now her voice was loud, wild, her eyes searching around, looking for an escape. "Every time—EVERY TIME—I had the advantage, he scowled at me, like I was doing something wrong. And every time Claire was on the offense he practically glowed with pride. Face it, Darren!" Now her voice was resigned, defeated. "I'm not anymore his squire then you're my sister. He doesn't want me; he wants Claire. So I'm going to give him what he wants, just like I gave him Claire's win. I'm leaving. This whole thing was a waste of time; he's a waste of time. Now if you'll excuse me."

Darren stared, his mouth hanging open as Blaine brushed past him, her shoulders down, her head hanging, defeated. He watched her walk several feet before he got his wits back. "Where are you going?" he called.

"Where I've been trying to go since I got here. I'm going to the library."

* * *

Merric looked up from where he was sitting with Claire on the floor, looking at the spreading bruise on her side when he heard the door to the training room slam for a second time. Seems Blaine hadn't gone down without one final jab. But what a low blow that was. Attacking when the opponent thought her done. He should have expected it. 

"Ah! Darren! That was a good duel, wasn't it?" Merric asked. He grabbed Claire's arm and helped her to stand. He dropped his hand, however, when he saw the look on the bodyguards face. "What is it?"

"Blaine was right," Darren said, and his shoulders sagged. "I believe I just lost a great deal of respect for you."

"What?" Merric gasped, his mouth falling open just a little. Quite frankly, he was bewildered. Was this because Blaine had lost? It wasn't his fault that she didn't know how to sword fight. It was Darren's; after all he was the one that had trained the Princess for four years. From the skills he had seen, however, he supposed Darren had been lying. If anything, he should be the one who lost respect for Darren! Not the other way around. "What the hell are you talking about, Darren?"

The man in question simply shook his head and turned to walk away. Merric started after him, but before he could reach the man, Darren stopped and turned back. In his eyes Merric could see a fierce light of justice.

"Let me say just one thing before I go find my mistress, Sir Knight." His voice was hard, cutting like a knife. Merric didn't understand where this was all coming from. "Princess Blaine is your squire, sir. Only Princess Blaine. Good day."

Merric stood long after the door to the training room had slammed once more trying to puzzle out what the bodyguard had meant.

A/N Please please please! Review!


	8. Ch 7 Humiliation

A/N Thanks sooooo muchfor the reviews! Keep them coming please! Okay, later on in the chapter Blaine starts speaking a different language. The translations are at the very bottom of the page! lol. Oh, and the language is french. So yeah... there you go!

p.s. I have nothing against Wicca, it was just the only example I could think off.

Chapter Seven: Humiliation

Blaine was sitting in the library three days later, when Merric finally came looking for her. She was sitting at one of the back tables, surrounded by tall stacks of books of all different shapes and sizes. She had already worked her way through one stack and had just four more to go.

Her nose was buried in a book, but she wasn't reading. She was trying to figure out a better way to look for any information about the man on the boat. Assuming that the vision she had had while looking into his eyes was caused by a spell, she had started her search with spells. Only problem being that the Tortallan library had a lot lacking compared to those one earth.

For one thing, they didn't have the Dewey decimal system. In fact, as far as she could tell, there wasn't any system. She had searched all over the library and couldn't find anything that indicated how the books were sorted. Even after asking a passing page, one younger then her supposed age, for help, she still didn't understand it.

Blaine sighed and shifted in her chair until her legs were thrown over one armrest and her back was pressing against the other. The book rested on her thighs and her head bowed down slightly so she could see the page.

The current book she was reading was a book of just spells, one of the few. Most of the other books had lots of other things besides just spells. Knights and spells, weapons and spells, armor and spells, spelled knights, spelled weapons, spelled armor. Then there were famous Kings and the spells they had used, famous Queens and their spells. Not to mention dragons and spells, hunting and spells, learning and spells, training and spells. And then—Then!—there were the spelled items, how to spell items, what items to spell, and what the spelled items could do. So yes, she felt very lucky to have found a book of just spells.

And the wonders of internet. Oh how badly she wanted the internet. Things would be so much easier if she just had one computer. One. She could enter a few key words in the Google search engine and have hundreds of results in 0.46 seconds! Of course, she'd probably end up with hundreds of kooky Wicca sites but still, at least she would be that much closer to the answer that much faster.

Instead of this hour upon hour of reading and reading and reading! Not that she didn't mind reading. But it was frustrating when she was trying so hard to find just one thing. Not all this other information, just the one piece about the death eyes.

"Why haven't they invented index's yet?" she demanded and forcefully slammed the book closed, dropped her head back.

"What's an index?"

Blaine jumped, banged her elbow into the armrest and yanked a cord in her neck from whipping her head to the side. She thought she had recognized the voice, and when she saw whom it was she wished she hadn't.

Refusing to say anything to the two people standing on the other side of her table, Blaine took her legs off the armrest and let them down until her feet touched the floor. She was seated right on the edge of the table, her back straight. All she needed were a pair of glasses and she would have the librarian look down pat. Then she calmly set her book on the table, folded her hands serenely over it and simply looked at them, waiting for one of them to speak first. She sure wasn't going to.

"You weren't at lunch, so Claire and I came looking for you," Merric said as an explanation.

"Really?" Blaine raised an eyebrow in inquiry. She hadn't been to lunch in three days. "How observant of you."

"Claire also mentioned that you haven't been showing up to the academic classes," Merric gave her what she assumed he thought was a charming grin. She just narrowed her eyes at him.

"Again, how observant."

"Don't you think you should attend classes?" Merric asked, raising his eyebrows also and leaning his fists against the table.

"I don't need lessons," to dismiss him, Blaine leaned back against the chair and crossed her legs silkily, then she grabbed the book and opened it in her lap. It took great skill and an amazing actress to read a book while looking down her nose, but Blaine pulled it off. However, it didn't work in dismissing the two pests.

"So, the princess thinks herself to good to sit next to just a common noble for her lessons, does she?" Claire asked mockingly, using a tone of voice Blaine would use on a four year-old.

"I'm not above sitting next to you, I simply don't want to. It's the smell, I'm afraid, it puts me off. You really should consider bathing more often, dear," Blaine had the satisfaction of seeing Claire's face flush with anger.

"I think we should take her to her lessons, don't you think Merric?" Claire asked and a glint entered her eyes. A bad glint. A devious glint.

"I told you I don't—"

"Yes I think we should."

In a flash Merric had rounded the table and scooped Blaine up out of her chair and into his arms. Then he flung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. Blaine's whole body went rigid at the first touch. And she felt that wall, the one that she seemed to have to constantly rebuild start to crack. Felt the memories start to leak out.

A touch. A kiss. Holding hands. Brushing arms. Chris's hand on her shoulder, on her waist. Chris pulling her close. Chris holding her. She could still feel him, she could _feel _him.

Oh God, Chris. She could feel Chris and she didn't want to. She didn't want it. It was in her, brushing against her skin like a ghost, teasing her, drawing on her emotions. And she wanted it to stop.

"Let me go," she whispered, then she screamed it and started beating her fists on Chri—Merric's back. "Put me down!"

She could hear laughter along with her own screams bouncing of the stone of the walls as Merric carried her down the halls. She didn't want to look up, didn't want to see Claire's ugly face laughing at her. She didn't want this.

She had to get him to let her go. She had to get him to let go or she would implode. She had to make it stop, had to make these feelings stop, had to make these feelings go away.

"Peasant, you put me down right now," Blaine hissed, digging her fists into his kidneys and wiggling her hips. The thoughts, oh god the thoughts. She had to make them stop. If only he would put her down. If only he would stop touching her, then she wouldn't be reminded of him, wouldn't be reminded of Chris, and she could put all those thoughts away, for good.

"Why should I?" Merric asked after he had winced from the pain. "I'm just doing what's best for you."

"What's best?" Blaine scoffed and wiggled more. "What's best is that you put me down. I don't need lessons." What's best was that he put her down so she could build that wall back up once more.

"Would you look at that Claire?" Merric turned to give Claire a look and nearly smashed Blaine into a doorway. "A princess who thinks herself above lessons." Seizing her chance,Blaine grabbed onto the doorway to some room and pulled with all her might, trying to pull herself off his shoulder.

"Quite a sight indeed," Claire said then giggled. Blaine saw red.

Her hands dropped like dead flies when Merric put his hand over her bottom and patted a little. She screamed in outrage and fell back down. Reaching up with one hand, she tried to grab Merric's hair to pull his head back, hard, but she couldn't reach. Instead she scratched her nails down his neck, biting into the flesh. The memories were coming faster now, stronger now. She didn't want to remember.

"Let me go you pampas ass! There's nothing you can teach me!" she shrieked and kneed Merric in the gut. But he didn't put her down, and he didn't move his hand, he just squeezed a little. Mortified, humiliated, and fighting off sensations she thought had died with her four years ago, Blaine stopped struggling and laid still, hoping he would move his hand.

"Are you trying to insult me?" Merric asked, referring to her last comment.

"What?" she asked, her voice breathy, trying to remember what she had said.

"I think she is, Merric," Claire egged Merric on. Blaine lifted her head and scowled at her.

"No! There's really nothing you can teach me. I already know everything you could possibly know."

"More insults! You hear that Claire? Does she never stop with the insults? Well, doesn't matter now," Blaine heard a door creak open, heard the conversations behind the door die off. Merric gave her butt a few more pats then slung her over his shoulder and dropped her onto the ground on said butt, in front of a classroom full of kids she didn't know.

"Princess Blaine Marissa De Veinto, reporting for class sir!" Merric called out, then grinned down at Blaine, who was still sitting where she had fallen, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

The silence was so thick around her she swore she would have been able to hear a pin drop. Her face turned beat red before she forced it away, then she calmly rose to her feet, brushed off her dress, turned and bowed low to the teacher. She could do this, she thought, she could get out of this with some dignity.

"I'm sorry Professor," Blaine said in her most dignified voice, making sure her back was straight, her chin high, her barring impeccable. "I did not mean to interrupt your class. But it seems my knight-master is too great of a fool to even listen to his own squire."

"It's quite alright, your highness," the man said, she couldn't even remember his name. However, she recognized him as she had spoken to him the day before last.

"Could you please explain to this great idiot why it is that I no longer have need of lessons?" Blaine, whose voice was quiet and calm, the eye of the storm, gave Merric a scathing look. However, if anyone had looked close enough, they would have seen the way her entire body was shaking.

She refused to look at the kids in the classroom. Absolutely refused. She knew one look at their laughing faces would end it. It would ruin any chance she had at making it out without further humiliating herself. And she wasn't going to sensor what she said to Merric. She was going to let him have it.

"Sir Merric, the Princess has completed all her lessons. In fact, she finished them before she even arrived here. Two days ago she came in and took a test, on all the class subjects, to prove that she had finished her lessons. And she passed them all. She has no need for lessons. She already knows everything that anyone here could teach her."

"So," Blaine gave a look to the teacher, imagined herself in a giant courtroom in a fancy lawyer's suit. The teacher was her witness, Merric and Clair the defendants. And she would let them fry in their own guilty stupidity. "Could you, in clear words, explain to these two buffoons exactly what that means?"

The sweet and innocent look she gave the teacher had him putty in her hands. She should have been a lawyer, she thought as she turned to watch the defendant's reaction to the damning evidence her witness was giving.

"That means, your highness, that you have no need to spend your afternoons in these classrooms. You can spend them however you like."

"Say, for instance, I was to spend my afternoon enhancing my bow shooting skills, would that be okay?" She gave him a look with just the hint of a puppy dog eye to it.

"Yes, your highness, that would be fine."

"How about if I was to spend the afternoon, which is free now, cleaning my room? Would that be okay?"

"Well, we have servants who get paid to do that, your highness. But if you wanted to, it wouldn't be a problem."

"And say, just for instance, mind you, not for real, but for instance. What if I was to spend my free afternoon in the library, reading on let's say, Tortallan history, would _that _be okay?"

"That would be fine also, your highness. In fact, that would be wonderful. You would be going above and beyond the required knowledge requirements. In fact, it would be admirable," He gave her an encouraging smile. Blaine smiled back and nearly said, "Thank you, your honor, no further questions." Instead she turned back to Merric.

"Did you hear that?" Blaine hissed, fully turning her back on the teacher and striding to Merric so she could poke him in the chest. "Admirable. Above and beyond the academic requirements. Maybe next time you'll listen to me, you great bloody fool!"

Then she pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into him, sending him off balance. He in turn, knocked into Claire who stumbled against a desk with a stack of books that fell and crashed against the floor with a loud bang. As the door swung closed behind her she could hear the long delayed laughter. Her hands clenched into tight fists as she stood with her rigid back to the classroom.

That stupid, humiliating, malicious… she wanted to scream! Who did he think she was? Some common person? Hadn't she spent eighteen years on earth? Coming to Tusaine had been easy in the academic sense. She had already known all about reading, writing, math, and most of their sciences. So, when she had first arrived here, all she had needed to learn were some etiquette lessons, some history lessons and about the countries in general. Weapons training had covered all the knowledge she had been lacking there also.

So, she had easily completed all her academic lessons within the first two years as a page. Which had left her time for weapons training and extensive knowledge on such things like biographies of famous knights and kings, and people of Tusaine and other countries.

No, she hadn't slacked off at all in all her time in Tusaine. And she hadn't ever thought herself above having lessons. She had craved them. She had spent nearly all over her free time in the Tusaine library with Darren soaking it all up.

Her eighteen years in earth, yes she had learned, yes she had been tutored. But she hadn't enjoyed it. She had hated it like all hell. She had fought her mother at every step because she didn't want to be taught by a tutor, she had wanted to be in a classroom. And she hadn't wanted to learn the required stuff, she had wanted to learn other things. Like psychology and mythology, sociology, laws. She had wanted to learn things that had interested her.

But she had stuck it out, and she had learned all that she could learn from her tutors, all the required things. And then she had learned more. When she had told her mother she was going out shopping, she would sneak off to the public library and read about things her mother would have fainted at. She had learned foreign languages on the internet, read poetry by unknown artists, read books that never made the bestseller list but were profoundly moving. She had learned all that she could about things that her mother would have hated.

And then, coming to Tusaine she had been dropped into this world where everything was foreign to her, everything was new. She hadn't known anything about anything. She had been like a newborn babe in a big new city. And she had eaten it up. Everything here had been so interesting, so intriguing. She had read so many books, learned so many new things. And she had loved every minute of it.

And now, to be… dropped into some… classroom full of people she didn't even know? To be accused, in front of them, of being above lessons, above learning, something she had come to love to do, had come to need to do every single day? To just be… humiliated like that? She. Was. Furious.

When the door to the classroom opened again she spun on her heel and prepared to let Merric have it. She would slam his ears with curses and insults, tear him down, rip him to shreds. Then she would do it again, and again, until finally he understood the strength and utter mass of her anger, until he finally understood how wrong he was, how wrong everything he had accused her of was, until he realized how he had hurt her. And then, then… then he would really get it.

However, he got to it the ranting first.

"How could you humiliate me like that?" he demanded.

"Me?" she scoffed, bewildered. Her anger doubled, tripled, multiplied so many time it became that she could hardly even talk. "Humiliate you? ME? Humiliating YOU?"

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't need lessons? Then disrespecting me like that, in front of future squires? And in front of knights that are equal to me? Why would you do something like that?"

"I did tell you! I distinctly remember screaming that I didn't need lessons! I even tried to beat it into you with my fists!" Blaine burst out, her eyes wild with hate. She waved her fists in front of his face, thought about hitting him with them again.

"I thought you were just insulting me more. You could have just told me nicely and I would have listened! Besides, why are you so angry? It's not like I did anything to you."

"Not like you didn't do anything to me? You stupid, idiotic… Vous me faites si fou je ne peux pas même penser. Comment Gainel pourrait-il avoir fait ceci à moi? Pourquoi le penserait-il était-il bien pour me mettre en tant que votre châtelain? Vous stupide, imbécile aveugle. Je suis votre châtelain, pas Claire! Le mineur que vous pourriez avoir fait est écoute moi au lieu de suivre son idée stupide. Avez-vous une idée comment humiliant qui était? Je ne peux pas même me tenir pour vous regarder en ce moment, je suis si fâché. Je vous déteste tellement. Dieu, je vous déteste. Sortir de ma vue! Hors de ma vue!" (translation 1.)

At their blank stares Blaine stopped her rant. But her anger didn't dissipate. "Quels êtes-vous, stupide? J'ai dit sors de ma vue! En ce moment!" (translation 2) When they continued to simply stare at her, she gave a frustrated scream and stormed away blindly, her feet pounding into the ground.

Her furious steps carried her far, and she passed many people without realizing she had done so. It wasn't until her feet left stone and touched onto soft earth that her anger cleared enough for her to see where she was.

She had come to the garden, and the peaceful thrum of wind dancing along the plants was enough for her to calm just the slightest. But she didn't stop walking, didn't believe she could afford too.

Her feet carried her farther, until her steps stopped their hurried pace of anger and took on a dragging step of sadness. Those emotions were there again, just under her heart, pushing it, pushing it until it was near to bursting from her chest.

Fists clenched as she fell to her knees in a patch of flowers near to the far back wall. She was surrounded by high bushes, secluded by them. She felt secure now, in being alone.

The first sob tore from her throat, ripped at it. She pressed her hands hard into her lap, closed her eyes tight. The tears leaked out anyways, and the pain escaped with her cries. How could he have done that to her? How could he have been so cold as to humiliate her that way?

How could he be so unloving as to not even notice her? If he had just bothered to see, bothered to see that she was surrounded by books, by her love for learning, none of this would ever have happened. Was he so wrapped up in that floozy that he couldn't even see her standing right in front of him? Standing there with the truth splayed out in front of her? Had Chris loved her so little?

"Oh God!" she chocked out, and threw herself onto the ground, burying her head in her arms, weeping wildly. He wasn't Chris! She wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs until she was able to believe it. He was Merric. He would never be Chris, never. So why did she want him to be?

And that was the truth of it all, she realized, as she lay there, crushing the poor flowers beneath her body as she wept. That was thetruth that was so hard for her to swallow, so hard for her to accept. She wanted, so very badly, for Merric to be Chris.

Why? She wanted to know why. Because… because she wanted to be able to look at him and say she didn't love him still? Because she wanted to be able to blame him for what he had done? Because she wanted to confront him? To rage at him? To make him look at how he had destroyed her, how he had ruined her, how he had taken everything she had ever needed and loved in her life and crushed it under reality? Is that why she wanted Merric so badly to be Chris?

No… no. None of those were it. As she lay there, the wind playing across her hair, she allowed the truth to seep into her flesh, into her bones, into her heart, into her soul.

The truth was… the truth was…

_Crack_

With a gasp, Blaine sat up, rubbing the tears from her hot cheeks. She looked in the direction of the noise but all she saw were green bushes. Big green bushes. Concealing green bushes.

Wait… was that… there was a hole in one, a gap of missing leaves. Blaine rose onto her knees, then placed her fists down so she was on all fours, leaned towards the gap, trying to peer into it. What was in there?

Eyes. Green eyes. Like plants. So green she could practically see the leaves, vibrant with new life, dancing in those eyes.

Then the man who owned the eyes blinked. And with a gasp, Blaine was sucked into a vision.

* * *

(translation 1) You make me so crazy I can't even think. How could Gainel have done this to me? Why would he think it was okay to put me as your squire? You stupid, blind fool. I'm your squire, not Claire! The least you could have done is listen to me instead of following her stupid idea. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I can't even stand to look at you right now, I'm so angry. I hate you so much. God, I hate you. Get out of my sight! Out of my sight!

(translation 2) What are you, stupid? I said get out of my sight! Right now!

A/N Okay, there you go! Now you better review because I have been very good and I have been updating a lot lately. So! You review!


	9. Ch 8 Vinetra Spidria

A/N Okay! Here you go! The newest chapter! I hope you enjoy and again, thank you so much for your reivews. Leave one for this chapter too please!

Chapter Eight: Vinetra Spidria

Darren rushed down the hallway, his eyes searching, starting to panic. Where was she? He had left her in the library for five minutes—Five minutes!—to get some lunch for them because she had refused to go to the mess hall herself, again. And what did he return to find?

Five neat stacks of books, one book laying open having fallen to the floor, and an empty chair. An _empty_ chair. Where had she gone? At first, he had thought that maybe she had gone to find more books? Not that she didn't have enough in the first place. But he hadn't wanted to panic.

But when she hadn't come back he had gone searching the rows, only to find that she wasn't there. So, of course, he had thought of all the horrible things that the book laying haphazardly on the ground could imply, the worst of which was kidnapping.

And now, here he was, running through the halls, searching for his wayward charge.

"Sir Merric!" Darren called when he saw him and Claire standing outside a classroom, looking slightly vexed. "Have you seen Blaine?"

"I have too! I tried to take her to her classes—"

"Blaine doesn't need any academic classes. She finished all of them in her first two years as a page."

"So I've heard. Now. Anyways, she started talking in this weird language then walked off that way," Merric pointed. Darren followed his finger, then looked back at Merric.

"What did you do to her?" Darren's voice was low, threatening

"What?"

"Blaine has only been that mad twice in the four years I've known her. What did you do to her?" Darren took a step forward, reaching for the sword at his side.

"We took her into the classroom. I guess she was embarrassed by being so smart, that's all!" Claire said hastily, drawing Darren's attention. He dropped his hand and stepped back.

"You're lying to me, and I don't appreciate it. Blaine would never react like that to something so small.However I don't have time to make you tell me the truth. Excuse me." Darren bowed, as he was obligated too, and took off in the direction that Merric had pointed.

* * *

Blaine was sitting in a sea of roses. Blood red roses. They had always been her favorite. Her dress was red also. A Victorian style ballroom dress. The collar was low, provocative, beaded with black beads that swallowed all light. The sleeves were short, just the slightest bit poofy, showing off her arms, which looked pale in the foggy light. As she stretched to bring her nose to a flower she felt the tiny little buttonsall alongthe back of her dress press against her skin.

She lifted her hands from the lap of her dress, folds and folds of which covered her entire lower body, the train spreading out across the ground. With a black-gloved hand she plucked a rose, sucked in a breath when a thorn pricked her, the lifted the rose to her nose to smell again.

Her hair was tucked up into abunand placed under a dainty little red hat, with a red feather tucked into it. Sheplaced the rose behind her ear, then looked out across the red sea, loving its magnificence.

She felt a tickle on her neck and brought up her gloved hand, felt something there, felt a pinch on her neck. She swept her hand down, flung the thing off her neck and onto her lap. Stared at her lap disbelieving.

A black widow crawled on its spindly eight legs slowly off her lap and onto a rose. She looked at her hand, saw beads of blood glistening on her black glove. Bitten. By a widow spider.

The muscles in her neck started to tighten, her breath started to wheeze. She tried to move so she could stand, but all her muscles seized up, and she couldn't move. Fear began to trickle down through her body, as her eyes alighted on the roses once more. And saw something that hadn't been there before.

Widow spiders, they were everywhere, in all the flowers, crawling, creeping, racing across the petals. Blaine, gasped, terrified, and tried to get away, but her throat was closing, her muscles were useless.

She sucked in air for a scream but it was shocked out of her as vines, dark green, thorny vines, crept out from beneath the roses.

They grabbed her arms, and pulled her back until she was laying flat on the ground. Then the vines grabbed her ankles, grabbed and twisted, pulled until she was laying with her arms and legs pulled apart, a sacrifice to the gods.

Then she felt it, that creepy, crawly, whispery feeling. That sense that something was on her skin, so light, so small she could barely feel it, wasn't sure if it was really there. It was on her leg, then her thigh. Her arms, her face, her neck, her chest. Everywhere. Spiders, widows, everywhere.

And she couldn't breath, couldn't think. Her face, it was going numb, her lips, they were turning blue. Her eyes, they stared up at the sky, blank, slowly dieing. She sucked in a breath, pulling hard for so little gains.

Then the pinches, more bites. Her muscles cramped, but she couldn't soothe them, the vines were pulling tight, pulling, digging into her skin. She could feel the blood trickling down through her cuts.

She sucked in her final breath of air, felt a tear roll down her cheek, felt a spider crawl up it's path. And she died.

"Blaine!"

Gasping, scrambling, pulling back, the gap in the bushes, the green eyes. Looking down at her hands, her arms, her clothes. Not red, blue. No spiders, just skin. Breathing, breathing blessed air without obstruction.

"Blaine!" that voice, Darren, calling her. She scrambled back on all fours until she could stand. She heard the snap again, but didn't look, didn't want to see those Death Eyes.

"Darren!" She called then turned and ran, running, running, leaving that awful vision behind her.

"Blaine!" Darren was calling from somewhere in the garden, but she couldn't see him, couldn't see. When had all these bushes popped up, all these green bushes that were taller then her? She didn't remember seeing these when she first came in.

"Darren? Where are you?" Blaine ran farther, faster. She could still feel those spiders crawling on her. She itched her neck, thought she felt a bump and nearly panicked. "Darren!"

"Blaine? What is it! What's wrong!" he could hear the panic in her voice and he felt fear grip. He would never be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to Blaine. Would never be the same, that's for sure. She was his sister, part of his heart. He would die a little inside if she were to die.

Blaine skidded through an arched opening in the bushes, saw a lady sitting on a bench across from her. She debated whether or not she should just keep running, but she felt her neck, felt the bump, and the bump felt bigger.

"Please," she called out and rushed to the woman on the bench, "Please, does this look like a bite?"

Blaine fell to her knees in front of the woman and tilted her head to the side, exposing the bump. Blaine looked up unto her eyes, trying to read what the woman was thinking, her reaction to what she was seeing. But, strangely, she couldn't.

The woman's eyes were greenish brown, very pretty. But they were calm, like a cool lake, and empty. Blaine couldn't see anything in them, nothing at all. And she couldn't see anything on the woman's face either. It was a pretty face, would have been prettier if the woman allowed her hair to grow out longer then her short boy's cap.

Who was she?

"It doesn't look like a bite. Just a little bump." The woman said and smiled. But not a mouth smile, it was only her eyes that smiled. And didn't her eyes just go the prettiest shade with that smile?

"Like a goose bump?" Blaine asked, then smiled herself. What a nice lady, she thought. She had a kind face, a kind feeling about her. "I'm Princess Blaine. Who are you?"

"I'm Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan."

"You?" Blaine scoffed, relaxing back on her heels, staring up at the woman. When she had thought of lady knights she had thought of… well… those lumberjack woman, big and burly with curly unruly hair, pulled back in a ponytail at the nap of the neck with frizzies all around. A competent woman, sure, but not exactly the most attractive. "You're the Lady Knight Kel?"

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"Well… yes, I guess. I hadn't expected you to look quite so… well, feminine," Blaine gave a sheepish shrug, then grinned. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard much about you from Nealan."

"Neal?"

"Yes. He talks about you a lot. Usually when he's trying to tell me something about knighthood, like what a knight should and shouldn't do. He uses you as an example often times. It's rip-roaring hilarious," Blaine stood and took a seat beside Kel on the bench, who had been watching her closely. The woman didn't say anything more, just sat quietly. Blaine felt compelled to talk.

"You're squiring that girl Claire, right?" Blaine felt a slight lump rise in her throat. Obviously too soon to talk about that. Humiliation burned hard and deep.

"Yes. Well, I'm trying to."

"There a problem?" Blaine looked at her sideways, saw her watching her closely in return, reading her face, then turned her gaze to the bushes in front of her.

"Not something I can't fix."

"It's Merric, isn't it? I'm supposed to be his squire, not Claire. He's always hanging around her. Always teaching her. Not that I'm complaining of course!" she added hastily. "I like being by myself. There are plenty of books in that library I have yet to read. But sometimes…" she sighed here before continuing, her voice soft and low, hardly louder then the wind. "Sometimes I wish I were good enough… oh, never mind. Do you—"

"Blaine!" Darren came rushing through the bush arch, stormed to the bench and lifted her right off it and into his arms. He crushed her against his chest and kissed her head before resting his cheek against it. Blaine hung there for a few seconds, feet dangling quiet a few inches off the ground, then wrapped her arms tight around his waist. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears sting at her eyes. Oh yes, humiliation burned. And with Darren here she felt free to let it runs it's course, instead of trying to hold it back.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again! I told you to wait for me in the library, didn't I? I told you to stay there and wait for me to get back! And what do you do? You get up and leave, like my words mean nothing. Nothing!"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, still hanging off Darren's chest. She didn't object when Darren started walking, only clung tighter. She felt she needed this after the day she had had. "It's Merric's fault."

"Don't go blaming this on him! You could have told him that you didn't need lessons!" Darren felt the reverberation of her growl against his shoulder bone.

"I did tell him! I told him several times! He didn't listen. He only listens to Claire, who told him to drag me to class," Blaine sniffed, imagined herself as a little girl tattling to her daddy.

"Well you could have struggled, or used one of the moves I taught you in self defense."

"I did struggle. Boy did I ever. Actually, let me tell you all about it. Would you like to hear?" Blaine looked up for a second to see his face.

"Yes I would," Blaine gave him an approving nod, kissed his chin and laid her head back down on his shoulder.

"It all started in the library…"

* * *

Keladry looked up from packing when she heard the knock on her door. As she had expected Merric stood in the doorway, Claire at his shoulder. That girl has stars in her eyes, Kel thought, but couldn't blame her. Hadn't she felt that way also when she had been a squire? The only difference had been, Kel hadn't let it affect her squirrelly duties.

"Why are you packing?" Merric asked, stepping into the room and over to her fireplace, fingered the cat statue sitting on it.

"I'm leaving soon. Claire, you should go pack also. I've been ordered by the King to return to New Haven and resume command there."

"What?" Kel looked up sharply at the outraged cry. "We can't leave!"

"Yes, we can. And we have to. It's what the King ordered. Now, please go pack."

"I don't want too… Merric… I…" Kel saw the girl's eyes well with tears before she turned and rushed away. Shaking her head, Kel returned to her packing. This was for the best. She had let it go to far, allowing Claire to spend all her time with Merric.

At first it had been okay, because Merric hadn't had another squire at the time. But Merric's squire was here now. Kel had hoped that once the replacement squire had showed up that Merric would do the right thing and let Claire down gently, tell her that he had his own squire and that he had to work with her. But Merric hadn't done that. Merric had kept right on doing what he had been doing. And now Merric's squire, a very wholesome girl, was getting pushed out of her spot, was being neglected. So, it was time she changed things.

"The King didn't send you out, did he," Merric asked, his back to Kel.

"No, he didn't. I asked to be let out. I'm tired of the castle life. I want to get back to my people at New Haven," Kel folded a shirt and put it into a bag.

"This is about Claire and I, isn't it?"

"No, it's about Claire and I, and you and the princess. Claire's my squire, Merric. Not yours. You have Princess Blaine. So why don't you go teach her something?" Now she folded a pair of work pants.

"Blaine hates me."

"And right now, I don't blame her." Seeing Merric's look, Kel sighed and sat on the edge of her bed, motioned for Merric to sit at the chair by her over crowded desk. "I've only known the princess a day or so, but I've talked to Nealan, who knows her a little bit better and we both agree on several things. One of which is that the princess is a very intelligent young girl. And she's very observant."

"So?" Merric put one ankle against his knee and began to fiddle with his shoe.

"So? Do I have to explain it all to you, Merric? The princess is very observant and she can read people very well, and you, anyone could read your emotions. So, to her, it's extremely obvious that you don't want her as a squire. And the fact that you continue to flaunt that fact by bringing Claire with you to see her all the time, she not only feels unwanted, but useless and not good enough for you."

"So why does she hate me?"

"Why? Because you continue to humiliate her in front of people she respects _and_ people she doesn't know. For instance, the duel you had her and Claire fight. You didn't do it to judge how well the princess had been trained so far. You did it because you wanted her to lose; you wanted Claire to be superior so you could justify the fact that you want Claire as your squire. You want to justify the fact that you feel you _deserve_ Claire as your squire. And that whole fiasco with the lessons."

"You heard about that too?"

"Merric, everyone's heard about it. You embarrassed her in front of a class full of twelve-year olds. You know how those pages gossip!" Kel tried for a grin, but it didn't quite work.

"Yeah, well did you also here how she insulted me, in front of everyone? Calling me an idiot and the like. Don't suppose you ever considered how that made me feel, did you?"

"Yes, I did. But then I also considered everything that you did to the princess and I decided that you deserved what was said to you," Kel allowed her face to become blank, once more the Yamani lump.

"What I did to her? She could have told me that she didn't need the lessons."

"Yes, but Merric, you could have listened to her. You could have asked her and then listened to her answers. You could have paid attention to her also. I'm sure she felt very insulted about the whole lunch thing."

Merric was drawing a blank, trying to remember what lunch she was talking about. Then he remembered."What about the lunch thing. I don't understand? She was angry because I noticed she missed lunch one day?"

"No Merric," Kel said and heaved a sigh. "She was angry because she felt you were doing her a favor by noticing that she wasn't there. And she was angry because she hadn't been to lunch for three days and you chose that one day to notice it so you could use it as an excuse to drag her to class."

"So, what. Suddenly this is all my fault? What about the fact that she insults me all the time?" Merric rose now, angry.

"That is her fault. But can you blame her? The Princess is a tough girl; she has to be with the position she's in. She doesn't want you to realize that your attitude hurts her feelings. She uses the insults as a front to hold face in front of you. So, yes basically, it all comes back to you."

"Well, just what exactly am I supposed to do now? She hates me. How do I fix that?" Merric demanded, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. He didn't want to know this. He liked it when he could just blame her for their problems, for the fact that they didn't get along. To have it shoved in his face that he was the reason that things were going wrong was… unsettling at best.

"Go find you squire Merric, and apologize for the way you treated her," Kel stood also and started to resume her packing as Merric left the room. She stopped however, when he came back in, looking sheepish.

"Uhm…" he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes Merric?" Kel asked, folding her hands in front of her patiently.

"Exactly… where do you think I could find her?"

"Try Neal. He and the princess seem to be close. He should know where she is," Kel sighed when she heard Merric grumble something about being a hypocrite and why didn't Neal just take the brat off his hands?

Once she was sure he was out of earshot, Kel laughed. If those two weren't stuck together like a horse and it's saddle within two months, she'd eat her shoe. Those two were made to be friends with how alike they were, and with how the affected each other.

"What are you laughing about?" Dom asked, walking into the room and wrapped his arms around Kel's waist, kissed her cheek.

"Merric and his squire."

"The Princess? Boy if she isn't a pretty one. What about them?" Dom asked, resting his chin on Kel's shoulder as she continued to pack her things.

"It's like those two were made be together, is all. It's just funny when they try so hard to be apart," Kel gave a little smile, then turned her head and kissed Dom on the cheek.


	10. Ch 9 Peace Offerings

A/N So here you go! Thanks so much for your reviews! Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. The plot should start moving along real fast within the next three chapters or so. Enjoy and don't forget to review!

Chapter Nine: Peace Offerings

"I heard that Merric was looking for you," Darren said nonchalantly as he turned a page in the book he was currently reading. Blaine didn't look up from her book, she just continued to read. "Are you the least bit curious as to why?"

"No," Blaine said quietly and turned her page also. Her expression, though it didn't change expressions, took on an uninterested cast. "He probably wants to humiliate me some more. Therefore, I don't want to know."

"Come on, Blaine, it wasn't that bad." Here, Blaine looked slowly up from her book to meet Darren's eyes.

"Not that bad? Not. That. Bad? Darren, I have people I don't even know, people I'm sure were not in that class because they're way to old to be in that class, telling me I look cute when I'm angry and embarrassed. Cute! How can that not be bad?"

"It's a compliment. You should accept it graciously and enjoy it. It's not often you have people you don't even know telling you that you look cute. And isn't it nice to know that even if you get humiliated again, you'll look good doing it?"

"No."

"What? You're not even going to consider the possibility that he did you a favor?"

"No." Seeing that Darren was about to say something else she held up her hand. "Look, I'm trying to read. Please, say no more. It won't help."

"I told him where you spend the afternoons. He'll be here soon," Darren looked down at his book with a huge grin on his face.

"What! Darren!" She squawked like a bird. "How could you? I… you… we…" Blaine blew out a breath and looked back down at her book. This one was about spelled knights. But so far, she had yet to find anything of interest or of relation to the men on the boat. So, it was all right for her to let her eyes stop reading, her thoughts to wander.

She hadn't talked to Merric in almost a week, and frankly she was glad for the break. It had been hell on her nerves having Merric around, bringing about all those emotions and memories and feelings… she hadn't liked it. And with this week break she had been able to build up that wall again, build it up long enough that she could fortify it again and again, and this time she was certain that it wouldn't crumble the next time she saw him.

That didn't mean, however, that she was itching at the chance to see him. She would like to prolong their meeting for as long as possible because, for one, she didn't want to test her wall. And two, she was still mad at him. So, she'd just have to find a way to sneak off for a while.

"I'm going to go get more books," Blaine announced, closing her current one and standing to leave.

"Sit down!" Darren barked. Startled, Blaine did just that. Darren looked pointedly at the seven tall stacks of books and raised an eyebrow at Blaine. "Seems to me that we have plenty of books already. Just read the one you've got for now, okay?"

Blaine refused to huff and instead grabbed her book and leaned back in her chair. Seeing that Darren was again reading, Blaine jumped, put a hand over her stomach and gave Darren and embarrassed/bewildered look.

"What is it?"

"My stomach!" She jumped again then giggled. "It's growling. I guess I'm hungry. Why don't I go get us some food?"

Again, Darren barked for her to sit down as soon as she had gotten up, and again Blaine sat back down. Yes, she could have pulled the bloodline cards, after all, to society she was "better" then Darren. But she felt uncomfortable using it with Darren because of the fact that they were so close. So she grumbled and sat back down.

"Lunch isn't for at least an hour. You can wait." This time Blaine did huff and she added an eye roll before grabbing a book and pushing her nose in it. If she concentrated hard enough, maybe she wouldn't even realize that Merric was there.

Ah… here we go! She thought as a passage caught her eye.

_The three books, separated long ago, have yet to been found. They're locations are said to be in the most extreme places of this world; one of top of the tallest mountain, one buried in the hardest of earth, and one sunken in the deepest of oceans._

_It is also believed that when the three books are combined a spell becomes unlocked. In fact, legends and other writings of these three books that have been found recently, explain that the last three pages of each book are left blank. And when the three books are in one's possession the blank pages or filled with a spell. A spell of what isn't quite certain but many theories are believed._

_The most popular and commonly believed of these theories is that the spell opens a portal into the God's Realm, one through which the wielder of these books can control the God's, and in turn, the world below. The most fanatical theory is that the spell creates a portal between this world and all the others, allowing the wielder of the books to travel between the worlds and control them._

_This theory, however, has only been found to be recorded once, in contrast to the other, more believable theory, which has been found many times._

"Blaine?"

Her hands jerked and the book practically jumped out of them onto the table, slamming shut. Her hands stung with the release, felt as if they were being pinched. Her stomach was churning and a horrible taste was in her mouth. Her face paled as she looked at the book, sitting innocently on the desk.

Licking her lips, she rubbed her palms against her thighs, found that they were sweating. Her brow scrunched almost painfully as she stared at the book.

"Blaine!" Her thoughts scattered like dropping marbles on the ground. What? What had been going on? Her eyes lifted to Darren, focused, smiled a little at him.

"What?" She asked with a wide smile on her face and in her eyes as she looked at him. What was that look for, she wondered.

"I asked you why you've been avoiding me."

Blaine turned her head slowly to her right until the man came into focus. Her gut reaction was to scream and cry and pull away. But she calmly reminded herself that this wasn't Chris. This was Merric, two different people. She had to accept that. So, instead of reacting how she wanted to, she simply sat, waiting for him to make a move.

She would stick to the role she had created and she would leave Chris out of it. Like an outlined figure in a workbook, she'd use her mental scissors to cut Chris out of this part of her life.

"Well?" Merric asked raising his brows. He had taken a seat at the table and with the way the books were stacked, with the slightest move, he would be blocked out.

"Well what, peasant?"

"Why are you avoiding me?" Merric repeated.

"I'll give you one guess why. Would you like a hint? Try thinking back a little bit, oh say… a week?" Blaine snapped and folded her arms, giving him a sassy look.

"You're still upset about that whole lessons things. Can't we move past that?" Blaine simply raised her eyebrow and angled her chin down so she looked insolent and thoroughly unwilling to compromise. The look reminded her of those teen movies where the girl, or boy, loses a loved one and takes on that I'm-rebellious-and-above-the-rules-so-don't-even-try-to-talk-me-into-being-good-or-waste-your-time-trying-to-pull-me-from -the-bad-side-of-life persona. She kinda liked it; it was almost fun. "Alright, I'm sorry. I realize now that I should have just listened to you. And that I shouldn't have listened to Claire. Now, can we please move past this?"

"Why are you here, Merric?" She asked, her voice hard. "Don't you have a little bimbo to go play with?"

"I'd rather 'play' with you. After all, you are my squire," Merric was looking at her with big puppy dog eyes. She had never seen quite that look on Chris before. Chris usually got what he wanted before he had to pull out the puppy dog. And when he did, he did it more with a sexy cast, then with the adorable one that Merric was giving her. It was… nice to see that Merric could look like himself and not like Chris sometimes.

"Has Claire left then?" Blaine asked and considered crossing her feet. She decided against it and let the bad girl look fade a little.

"Yes, but that's not the point. I realized earlier that it wasn't exactly productive for anyone if I was always hanging out with another knight's squire," Merric gave her a half grin and sat back in his seat as well, fiddling with a book he had picked up from the table.

"So, I'm assuming that Lady Knight Keladry spoke to you?" Blaine smiled then, almost laughing when Merric winced.

"She told you?" He asked rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Blaine nearly dropped her mouth in surprise at the move. She had never, ever, seen Chris do that, not even in another's character role. And somehow, that helped her see them as two different people.

"Nope, I guessed. And boy did you ever give it away. I suppose, however, that I can forgive you. But only because you listened to the Lady Knight. And I have a feeling she knew what she was speaking of, since it was her squire you were messing with," She gave him a peace-offering smile and was a little surprised when he returned it.

The conversation fell into a sudden lull and Blaine found herself unsure of what to do next. Inside her head she imagined herself rolling her eyes, exhaling loudly, and flopping down onto the desk as if she had just run three miles and couldn't move another step. Her body, however, remained unmoving.

"What are you researching?" Merric asked and began to flip through the book he had picked up. Blaine immediately froze up.

"Nothing peasant," she snapped and her sudden friendly mood closed down. She could handle an apology, and even a peace smile. What she couldn't handle was Merric acting as if they were friends, asking casual questions, pretending they were familiar with each other. She didn't like it, and secretly, though she lied to herself saying it wasn't true, she was afraid to get close to Merric. Afraid that the same thing would happen to her again.

"Looks like some kind of spell to me," Merric said and began looking at the different stacks of books. "You in some kind of trouble?"

"Now why would you think that?" She asked and leaned back in her chair, one arm thrown over the back of the right side, leaning. In a long, slow move, she crossed her legs again and aimed a look at him. All she needed was a cigarette and dimmed lights and she'd have the look of the hard damsel in distress down.

"Well, this whole stack is about defensive spells."

"Yes well, that one is about armor and spells, and that's about weapons and spells. And that one in front of Darren is about famous spelled knights. I've simply separated them so I can pick and choose which books I want to read."

"Yes, but what are you looking for?" Merric reiterated.

"I told you, I'm not looking for anything!" Blaine made a frustrated noise and threw her hands up.

"Come one, tell me, I could help you find it! Darren and I could help you find it! Three people looking for it would find faster then if only you were looking."

Blaine felt the refusal on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped. She had to be smart about this. This was part of her quest for Gainel. And Merric was right. Three people looking would find it faster then if she read all the books by herself. She had to be smart about this.

And as much as she wanted to refuse, wanted the satisfaction of pushing Merric away, and back out of her life like he had been for the past week, she had to put the mission first! The mission was above everything, including her own feelings. She had to let him help. She had to.

"Alright, I'll tell you. Darren, you remember those men on the boat on our way here?"

"You mean the ones that you were gawking at?" Darren grinned at her, but Blaine just scowled.

"I wasn't gawking! I told you that before!"

"Well if you weren't gawking then what were you doing?" Darren asked and gave her a challenging look.

"And what does this have to do with the spell books?" Merric chimed in.

"I'm getting to that! God, hold your horses already!"

"Hold my… I don't have horses with me! And how could I hold them?" Merric gave her a puzzled look.

"Never mind! I'm trying to tell you a story. The reason why it looked like I was gawking was because… well it was because…" she paused, blew out her breath and then sighed. "Look there's no easy way of saying this without sounding crazy. But when I looked into that man's eyes I had a vision."

"A vision?" Merric asked and Darren echoed.

"Yeah, a vision."

"Of what?" Blaine looked at both of them closely and saw that they were only curious, not skeptical.

"Of… death. Of… my own death," Blaine placed her hands on the table and stared down at them, considering. Yep, it still freaked her out a little. But now that she'd seen it twice, it really wasn't quite as scary.

"Well, how did you…?" Merric's voice trailed

"Die? The first time—"

"There was a second time? Blaine when?" Darren stood hurriedly, his thigh bumping the table. All of Blaine's careful stacks wobbled then toppled with a loud crash causing temporary chaos.

The next several minutes were spent picking up the books that had fallen onto the ground back on the table. But she let them sit in their piles because she could see Darren's face and she knew that he was upset by what she had said.

"The second time was a week ago. In the garden."

"The… you could have been killed! For real! I can't believe you! You're never getting out of my sight again! Do you hear me?" Darren paced away, ran his hands over his face and turned back. Blaine didn't say anything; she could read it in his eyes. He was scared for her. And because she knew he was, she didn't protest.

"I don't understand," Merric said, looking rapidly between the two people. "What's so bad about the men?"

"They tried to kill us! On the boat—"

"Darren, don't. It's not that serious—"

"It is that serious, Blaine! They shot at us twice—TWICE—before you pulled us off the boat and into safety. Now you're trying to tell me that it's not serious? You were out in the garden, alone, with that man! Not to mention the fact that we couldn't find each other. You could have been lying there dead for weeks before anyone found you!"

"But he didn't kill me! He just gave me another vision! Then you called my name, I blinked, and I ran. I'm fine, see? It's not like I'm hiding a fatal wound from you. Darren, as long as I can get away, I'll be fine. Besides, that's why I'm researching it!"

"Why?" Merric asked quietly. Blaine paused in her placating with Darren to answer, thinking fast on her feet. She couldn't very likely tell him the truth. That was even more unbelievable.

"Because I want to know who sent them after me. Someone had to. Twice now I've been handed these visions of death. Someone's got it in for me. I figure if I know what kind of spell it is, where it came from, maybe I can pin down who it is. It's a long shot, but you know, I gotta try it, right?"

"So, that's what you're looking for with all these books? I reference to these visions?" Merric inquired.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Well sounds like a good idea. We'll help you look. Tell us first though, how did you die?" Darren hardened his jaw at Merric's question, but Blaine knew she had to answer.

"I drowned in a lake the first time. And the second time… well, I'm not sure. It was a combination. A spider bit me at my throat, so it swelled and I couldn't breath. And then, vines that were holding me down were cutting into my skin and at the same time, I was being bitten again and again by more and more spiders. So," Blaine shrugged. "You draw your own conclusions."

"You're not getting anywhere if you're not in my sight, you here me Blaine?"

"I hear you, I hear you. Shall we get started? You two take those two piles, I'll take this one." Grabbing a book, Blaine sat back in her chair and started reading.


	11. Ch 10 So It Begins

A/N Thank you all so much! Keep up the reviews and I'll keep up the updating! lol. Here you go, the newest chapter. I hope you like it.

Chapter Ten: So It Begins

Here I am again, Blaine thought as she stood inside the training ring of the long ago duel with Claire. It looked the same as it had before, but this time Darren was occupying the stands that were set-aside for an audience instead of leaning eagerly against the fence as he had the time before. It seemed he was perfectly fine with Merric taking the wheel in her training.

Blaine looked down at the practice sword she was holding and sighed. It was all well and good that she and Merric were on…well, she supposed they could be called civil terms. But dragging her out of bed before the sun was even up to train with swords when she could be reading more about those darn spells?

Tension was thick.

"What are we doing here peasant?" she asked, but her voice lacked the usual bite. She was tired today, for some reason. Very tired. Her limbs felt weighted down by the stress of dealing with Merric and struggling with her feelings and trying so hard to find even the slightest little hint of something to do with the spells.

It was frustrating to work so hard for so long for so little gains. In the past three months they had fallen into a rhythm. Wake up, eat in the mess hall, read in the library, eat lunch in the mess hall, back to library for more reading, and then dinner in the mess hall. By then all the reading had exhausted all of them, so they usually went to bed. Sometimes Blaine would take a book or two with her, but always she fell asleep before getting around to reading it.

Was it any wonder she was so tired?

"We're taking a break! I can't read another book! Now, get into position. I want to see you duel," Merric took the guard position in front of her, motioning for her to attack.

She did, slowly at first, but Merric didn't seem to react to anything, simply deflected her hit and motioned for the next. It wasn't long before she was hitting left and right, throwing at him all the different styles and types of offensive attacks Darren had taught her.

By the time Merric called it quits she was breathing hard and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Bending over, putting her hands on her knees, she tried to catch her breath back. "Do you want to do defense now?"

"No, I want to show you something. Hold out your hand while holding your sword," as Merric had been watching Blaine attack, he had noticed something that he was certain Darren hadn't meant to teach her.

Once she had her hand out, Merric stepped up beside her and placed his outstretched hand beside hers. "Look at the way we grip our swords."

Blaine did as she was instructed and noticed immediately that there was an obvious difference. Merric held his sword in a tight fist, or what looked like a tight fist. She could see by his fingers that he wasn't gripping it hard, but all of his fingers were closed together around the hilt. Blaine held hers differently.

Her first was closed around the hilt also, but her fingers were slanted downwards towards her wrist, while her pointer finger was stretched out farther along the hilt, as was her thumb. She frowned, wondering.

"What's the problem with that?" Blaine demanded, stepping away from Merric so she could face him. She had been weapons training for four years and no one had noticed before that she held her sword funny. Maybe he was just being a brat about it.

"There's nothing wrong with it, exactly. It's just not as strong a grip as the one that I use," Merric explained, frowning at her. Blaine looked over at Darren who was sitting outside the training ring. He didn't seem to have any objection to what Merric was saying.

"But I've never had a problem with it before! My grip's perfectly fine. You're delusional," Blaine huffed and stamped her foot. Really, he was just nit picking, she told herself, pouting in Merric's general direction. He didn't want to admit that she was so perfect there was nothing wrong with her.

Startled at her own thoughts, Blaine looked down at her hand. Where had that come from? She wondered. Maybe she was tired, needed to stop reading so much, stop relaying so much on her characters. Her inner thoughts were starting to sound like them.

"You just haven't entered the right circumstances for a problem to occur. Come, get into position again. I'll show you," Merric motioned with his hand and the sparring commenced.

At first, Blaine was tense, watching his every move, taking extra care in making sure her grip was strong. Merric saw this and for that reason didn't make his move quite yet. He waited until she had relaxed into her normal battle mode then struck.

With a sharp twist of his shoulder, Merric hit hard from a certain angle near the tip of the sword. Blaine cried out, feeling her wrist stretching, straining to hold up the sword. She felt the fingers stretch open from the fist, felt the sword fly out of her hand.

"See?" Merric straightened from his battle stance and watched Blaine as she furiously bent and retrieved her sword.

"Beginner's luck!" She spat and got into her opening stance. "You won't be able to do that again."

But he did. He had to wait longer to make his move, an impossibly long time, because Blaine was expecting it now. But he waited for his chance to move, saw it, and attacked.

Blaine saw it coming, was expecting it, she braced for it and still the sword was knocked form her hand. She shook out her wrist, feeling the pain in it.

"Do it again!" she hissed, grabbing her sword and putting it up. Again she braced for the blow and again Merric knocked the sword from her hand. There really was a flaw in her grip.

"Again!" She shouted. This time, however, instead of bracing, as she had done before, when she saw the blow coming, she lunged forward, so the blow, instead of hitting the tip of her sword, hit it straight in the middle. Though she had to struggle with it, she was able to shove of Merric's sword and keep her own in hand.

"Ha!" she gloated, dusting off her hands and giving him a cocky smirk. "There may be a flaw, but as long as I see it coming, it's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Merric demanded. The tone of his voice caught her off guard. Blaine looked up into his face and saw he was truly angry. "It's a very big deal! An enemy won't give you a second chance to master the blow like I gave you, Princess. An enemy won't let you pick your sword back up and continue the fight, Princess. An enemy won't be kind. An enemy will find your weakness, exploit it, and then kill you!"

"Merric, I was—"

"Be quiet!" Merric was really furious, Blaine saw. Her hand rose to her chest, fisted there, as she shut her mouth and watched him with wide frightened eyes. He was just the slightest bit scary like that.

"You're a princess, Blaine! You can't afford stupid mistakes like a weak grip. One wrong move and you could be killed. Royalty can't die that easily. It causes problems for everyone, not to mention the people left behind after your death. I won't let that happen to you!

"Grab your sword, tight, closed fist!" Merric shouted and grabbed her hand himself, crushing the fingers into place then holding them their. Blaine squirmed, crying out, trying to get him to let go. But he didn't he only squeezed tighter and continued to yell at her. "You'll carry this sword around with you, everywhere you go! And you'll grip it like I tell you or so help me, I'll strap you down and beat it into you!"

The pain in her hand was growing, so using her last resorts Blaine lifted up her hand and bit him. Merric cried out and snatched his hand back. He growled and brought his hand back to hit her.

Looking into his eyes in that moment, Blaine saw them glowing from within. She felt time stop for just an instant as she looked into that light in his eyes. But she didn't see Merric when she looked. She saw a shadow of a man's face, could see the sharp chin and rugged jaw line, could see the straight dark hair across his brow. No, she wasn't seeing Merric. And it chilled her to the bone.

The man was smiling too, she could see the white teeth faintly, could see the evil, mocking tilt of it. This man in the light scared her, and he seemed to know it, and that infuriated Blaine. She might be scared but damn it, she didn't have to let it show.

Time started again as Blaine lifted her chin, wanting to face that man head on. She faced something else instead.

Theopen-handed smackcame fast and hard, knocking her off her feet. She had barely landed when Merric was at her side, helping her back up, lifting her chin, inspecting her for other injuries.

And spewing apologies.

"Merric, it's alright," Blaine whispered, trying to get away from him. Trying to create some distance so she could think. What had that been? _Who_ had that been? And what did it mean?

"I'm so sorry! I was just so angry! I kept thinking of how easy it would be to kill you because of the stupid grip and it was making me so angry! It was like… like the anger was a living thing inside me that just took over!"

"Get away from her!" Darren tackled Merric solidly through the middle, sending them both sprawling a few feet away. Blaine, now sitting up and fingering her own chin, quickly thought of how to stop the up and coming chaos that Darren was about to create. She'd have to put thoughts of that eerie light and that evil grinaside for now.

Throwing her head back, she laughed, a glorious, full-bellied laugh. When she had stopped and taken a look at the two men staring at her, bewildered, she considered it a job well done. Chaos successfully avoided.

"Darren, get off of Merric and help me stand," he responded as if he had been electrocuted. It hadn't been seconds when he had his arm around her waist and was supporting her as she stood.

"He didn't hurt you too bad, did he? I'm heading straight to the king to tell him right now that I want that man hanged! Assaulting a princess, he deserves no less!" Darren turned to send a seething glance at Merric, who was sitting with his head down in shame.

"Oh stop!" Blaine laughed and pushed away from Darren. She considered what Merric had said and what she had seen. No, Merric hadn't meant to hit her, but she was willing to bet that man she had seen had. Just one more spell she would be looking for now, it seemed. It had to be a spell, how else could aman get inside of Merric, take control of him like that?

Walking over to Merric, Blaine casually offered a hand to Merric. "I needed some sense knocked into me! He did me a favor. Now, how was that grip?"

Merric mouthed a thank you and began teaching Blaine the new grip. Darren watched them closely for a long time before deciding it wouldn't happen again and returned to his seat in the stands.

As they continued their lesson, Blaine decided she needed to speak to Gainel, and soon.

* * *

Blaine used the excuse of needing a snack to sneak away from the men who were reading in the library. From there it was easy walking back to her rooms, locking the doors behind her, stepping into her bedroom and locking that door too.

Taking a seat on her bed, she closed her eyes and called out to Gainel, picturing him in her head as he had instructed her to do many years before. It wasn't long before she felt his presence next to her, smelt that wonderful lavender, felt the utter relaxation his presence exuded.

"Gainel," she smiled and opened her eyes, took in his beautiful face.

"My dear Blaine. What is it that I can do for you?" he smiled and Blaine thought she heard women sighing. Shaking her head she quickly explained to Gainel what she had seen.

When she had finished she looked at his face and saw that he was frowning heavily, his eyes troubled. "What does it mean?"

"Are you sure it was a man?" Gainel asked, and his voice sounded like thunder.

"Yes, I'm sure. But Gainel, what does it mean?" Blaine demanded.

"It means my worst fears are being realized. Blaine!" Gainel was suddenly grabbing her hands, squeezing. "You have to hurry! You have to find that book I spoke of, and you have to find it soon! We're running out of time."

"Time for what? I don't understand. What's going?" Blaine was flustered, disturbed by the desperation and urgency in Gainel's voice. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Blaine?" A knock on the door had her head whipping up, staring at it. Thank the lord it was locked, she thought as she looked back at Gainel. How would it look if they saw her with a god, locked and alone in a room?

"There are many things I'm not telling you," Gainel whispered, his eyes serious and deep. "And for many good reasons. Blaine, you just have to trust me."

"Tell me what's going on!" Gainel was starting to fade. His hands were still touching hers but the contact was faint, almost as if he wasn't really there. "Tell me who that man was! Tell me what it means!"

"Hurry Blaine! Before it's too late," and he was gone.

"To late for what?" Blaine demanded to nobody.

"Blaine!" Darren was knocking on her door. "Who's in there with you?"

"No one," Blaine called out, then whispered quietly to herself. "No one at all."

* * *

Two days later, Blaine entered the library early in the morning to find all but one of her books was gone. She whimpered, she cried, she wailed, and blubbered. Then she sat at the table and picked up the last book, started to read.

Three pages in she realized she had finally found what she had been looking for.


	12. Ch 11 One More Complication

A/N Here you go! Hope you like it, don't forget to review. Next chapter should be up Monday. BTW there are a lot of flash backs in this one, four I think. I'm sure you'll be able to tell where they are, I've put page breaks in between them. If you get confused, however, review me!

Chapter Eleven: One More Complication

Blaine sat quietly on the bench outside the King's personal chambers and tried to pretend that she couldn't hear what he was saying about her "messed in the head family" or about how "if given the choice he never would have agreed to any of this in the first place". She also tried to pretend that her family didn't deserve the verbal abuse the king was spewing out.

Obviously, she was failing horribly at both.

She sighed and swung her feet back and forth, marveling at the fact that he feet still couldn't touch the floor. Had she really been this short as a child back on Earth? Or did they just make the benches extremely tall here.

"What was that sigh for?" Merric asked on one side of her while Darren flipped a page in the book on her other side. They had been getting used to sitting outside the king's door every afternoon after training and Darren had been smarter then them all and finally started bringing things to curb the boredom.

"Nothing specific really. Just a sigh in general," she winced as another curse snuck through the crack between the door and the doorjamb and threw her head back slightly. "How long do you think it'll be before he comes out to tell us what was in the letter this time?"

Merric paused to listen for a few moments, made a humming sound low in his throat before nodding. "Another hour at least. But you can't complain. You got yourself into this mess."

Blaine sighed. Wasn't that the truth? She grabbed the end of the bench with her fists and pulled herself forward a little so she could watch her feet swing and thought back on that day when she had come to the library and found all but one of her books gone.

* * *

Blaine wiped the last frustrated and angry tear off her face (who could be so cruel as to put away all her books? All the books she had spent hours and hours searching for, and organizing into neat stacks by content, and then reading?) and sat down in an empty seat, grabbed the last remaining book and started to read.

Three pages in a passage stuck out at her.

_Another series of spell books told of in legends but as of yet never discovered, are the Books of Three: the Book of Creation, the Book of Brio, and the Book of Obliteration._

Blaine stopped reading, thinking. Hadn't she read something about that before? It seemed so long ago. In the distance she faintly heard ringing, as if chimes was being gently played with by the wind.

Books of Three… that sounded so familiar. She continued to read.

_It is said that the three books have been hidden so the wrong hands can never use their terrible power. They are hidden…_

"On top of the tallest of mountains, buried in the hardest of earth, and sunken in the deepest of oceans! I have read about this!" Blaine exclaimed. She heard a chuckling in her ear that sounded like rolling waves.

Gainel. He had taken away all her books. Because… because he had wanted her to find this one! He had wanted her to find this one because the spell she was looking for was connected in someway to the Books of Three.

She had to find out more about them!

* * *

Blaine sighed and stilled her moving feet, looked up at the wall opposite her. If only it had been that easy. Six months later and she didn't know any more about them then what she had read that day in the library.

"There you go sighing again. What are you thinking about?" Merric asked, poking her in the ribs. Blaine snapped her head to the side to look at him, giving him a seething glare. She may have been on civil terms with Merric still, she might have gotten more then a few bumps and bruises with all his hard weapons training and the like, and she might even occasionally joke with him, even smile at him. But she did _not_ condone rib poking.

"If people were meant to know what each other were thinking, they'd be mind readers. Are you a mind reader, Peasant?" Her eyes narrowed to slits as her voice slashed like iced knives. Merric didn't say anything, just stared at her, bewildered. Sometimes she reacted to things in the strangest of ways. One minute she was cordial and speaking with him like they were friends, and then the next she was acting like she hated his guts. It was confusing, and annoying, and sometimes a little hurtful.

He didn't understand her. She was always acting like he had done something horrible to her in the past and now he was on the road to forgiveness. It was as if she was nice to him as long as he didn't get too close. And as soon as he crossed the line of close but not close enough, she put up that cutting icy exterior. It was confusing. And at the same time, challenging. He was going to get to her, he was going to make her like him, and he was going to make her forget whatever it was that was making her hold herself back.

"Are you, peasant?" Blaine hissed and Merric, who had been staring her in the eyes, shook his head slowly. Blaine scoffed and turned her head to the side. "I didn't think so."

There, she thought, staring at a stone in the wall, now he was in his proper place. A sudden quiet in the King's chambers had her hoping, but it seemed he was simply stopping to rethink his next scathing words. Looks like they'd be there a while longer.

Sometimes, when she was sitting here like this waiting for her chance to read the newest letter, she liked to blame Gainel for waiting so long to help her. It was his fault, really.

* * *

"Excuse me!" Blaine called, running to catch up with the man who was hurrying away, rolls and rolls of scrolls carefully balanced in his arms. "Excuse me!"

The man stopped, turned to look at her and huffed out a breath. "I don't have time to deal with pages at the moment. I have to get these scrolls to the king as soon as possible."

"Oh," Blaine said, and let her shoulders straighten just the slightest, allowed her eyes to sharpen just a bit. "I guess when I return to my country, I'll have to tell my father, I don't suppose you've met the King of Tusaine have you? Well, I'll just to have tell my father how very unhelpful every one was to me, a princess in a foreign country. He won't be pleased with that at all. And he does have such a nasty temper," she paused to think and tapped her fingers against her lips, staring off tothe right slightly. Then she zeroed her eyes in on the man, pining him. "What did you say your name was again?"

She watched the man puzzle out what she had said, saw the realization dawn on his face. And he came scurrying back to her side, bowing profusely, dropping his precariously balanced scrolls left and right.

"Yes, your highness? What is it that I can do for you?" he bowed again, kept his head down and waited for her orders.

"I'm wondering if you can tell me where I can find this book," she heard him grumble something about idiots not understanding the system of the library, but ignored him. Handing him a slip of paper with the title of a book that was said to have everything ever known about the Books of Three in it, she waited anxiously for his answer. Finally, things were moving along. No more waiting or searching for hours on end and finding nothing. Things were finally happening.

This was the mission!

"I'm sorry, this book has been moved." Oh how fast those thoughts can shatter into tiny shards, like broken glass.

"What?" Blaine asked, her face and voice flat.

"Lady Knight Alanna took that book as well as several other books along with her to New Haven just yesterday. I'm sorry," he tried to hand her back the slip of paper.

"What? Why? Why would she do something so terrible?" Blaine demanded as the man began to pick up his scrolls, walking away.

"Lady Knight Keladry requested that books be moved to New Haven so she could educate the refugees. Terrible thing really," the man said mockingly, copying her words cruelly. "If you want to read that book, you'll just have to go there." And then he was gone.

Well, Blaine thought, folding the piece of paper and slipping it into her pocket. She had always liked travel. And who would object to a princess wanting to get a better look at the country she was spending the next four years in?

* * *

Apparently a lot of people, Blaine reflected, giving a sideways glance at Merric. Her knight master at the foremost. She nearly smiled when she thought back on what he had said.

* * *

"What do you mean you want to go to New Haven?" Merric shouted, slamming down his dinner tray. Obviously now wasn't a good time, like she had planned, Blaine thought taking a seat opposite him at the table. She had _thought_ waiting until dinner would be a good idea because Merric always seemed happiest when he was eating.

Weren't all boys? Maybe she should have waited until he had started chewing, instead of bringing it up while she had been standing in line with him, getting the food. Because he would now have to think about it instead of enjoying his food at all, he would be cranky. Where as, if she had waited until he had started eating, he would have already been in a good mood as well as inclined to eat instead of really thinking about the matter at hand. So really, it had been her mistake. She wouldn't do that again.

"I just thought it would be a good idea. Lady Knight Keladry's there you know. As well as Sir Nealan—"

"Is that what this is about?" Merric demanded. He hadn't even touched his food yet. This was not going well. Not only was he not in a good mood, but now he'd be even crankier because he had to postpone eating to deal with this. She had definitely botched this one. "You want to go see your precious Nealan?"

She lifted her brows at the sneering tone he had just used. That was new, and interesting. What could that mean? Was he… jealous? "No. I mean, yes it would be nice to see Sir Nealan again, he was a very good friend. But that's not the main reason. And besides, I thought he was your friend too!"

"He was my friend. But obviously not as 'good' a friend as you two were!" Merric hissed, his voice down right mean. Blaine's mouth fell open in shock, before she curled it in disgust. How dare he insinuate something like that about her!

"Either you take me to New Haven, or I'm going there myself, peasant. It's up to you what you want to tell your King," Blaine snarled before picking up her plate and stomping out of the room. She heard Merric's friends making an ominous "ooooo" sound as the door to the mess hall slammed closed behind her.

She had stomped off to her room and it wasn't long before Merric had followed, apologized for what he had said, and agreed, reluctantly, to take her to New Haven. Once he had left, she smiled. Men were so easy to manipulate.

* * *

Darren, however, had been a different story entirely. In breaking the news of her sudden need to go to New Haven, Blaine had to do a lot of planning. Because she knew no matter what she had to say, Darren would say no. She had known it would take a lot of persuasion to get him around. And she had done it too.

Looking over at her bodyguard, she smiled as she remembered.

* * *

For three days straight she had forced herself to awake before Darren so she could be ready to greet the day before he was even awake. Which would then give her the time she needed to clean up her mess from the night before, clean up the mess she would undoubtedly leave in the bathroom and have a cheery smile for Darren when he gave her his good morning.

And after three days of waking up _before_ the butt crack of dawn, Blaine was ready to drop. However, Darren had commented three times today alone that she was acting so grown up, like she could take care of herself. Exactly what she wanted.

She had also been doing extra work on her weapons skills so it looked like she was improving rapidly. Improving so much that she could almost handle any enemies by herself! Her grip was now perfect, and even Merric had to work at it to get the sword out of her hand, but there was nothing else she could do about that. It was all because of her female body.

Now, she and Darren had just finished running three miles. Both were panting, both were exhausted, and both were proud of the fact that Blaine had run the entire thing without a single break like she usually did. Not because she couldn't run the whole thing, which she had just proved, but because Blaine hated running.

How to start this? "Darren, you remember that spell I've been looking for?" Blaine asked between gasps.

"Yes, what about it?"

"I found it," Blaine said quietly as they walked slowly around the halls inside the castle, cooling down.

"Good! So you'll give it to me and I'll find the person who's using it against you. And the problem will be solved," Darren's voice was triumphant and as happy as it had been for a while. She knew that the whole thing had been stressing on him and she wanted it to be over with, for his sake. But it didn't work that way.

"Funny thing, really," Blaine said and smiled a little.

"Blaine," Darren was using his warning tone now. Well, that didn't help, Blaine thought as she prepared to dive right in.

"The spell is actually in a book that isn't at the library here. It's at the library in New Haven. And we're going there to get it."

"No."

"But Darren, don't you want to find out about that spell?" Blaine began in on her persuading.

"Not as much as I want to protect you. We're not going." His voice sounded final.

"But Darren, don't you think it's more productive if we go get the spell instead of waiting here for me to be killed?" Wrong thing to say, she knew it the minute it was out of her mouth.

"Are you trying to say I can't protect you? Is that what this is about? You don't trust me to save your life any more? If that's the way you feel, why don't you send me back to Tusaine then? Instead of insulting me this way," Darren turned his back on her and started walking the other way. She had really hurt him bad. So much for her plans. She had to fix this.

Rushing up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead into his back, held on. "It's not that! But Darren…"

She paused, and decided to go all the way with the theatrics. Darren responded better to the helpless then to the independent. Conjuring up some tears she let them soak through the back of Darren's shirt, let her voice quiver. "I'm just so scared."

Her voice was like a plea, a cry for help. Darren couldn't walk away from that. Turning in her arms, he wrapped his own around her and soothed her hair, trying to soothe away her fears. Blaine nearly smiled.

"I don't know who's after me. I don't even know why someone wants me dead. Why would someone want to kill me, Darren?" She lifted up her face to implore Darren with her eyes. Not all of it was acting either. This was the first time the magnitude of the situation was hitting her.

Someone was trying to kill her. And she had no idea why.

Could it be because she was looking into the Books of Three? But no one knew except Darren and Merric, and they hadn't even been told until after the attacks had started. _She _hadn't even known about the Books of Three before the attacks started. And it couldn't be because she was from a different world. Absolutely no one knew that besides her and the God. No, it had to be something else and she didn't know what.

"We'll find out who it is, Princess. Don't worry," Darren whispered and kissed the top of her head, as he would a child. Meanwhile, Blaine was smiling. Hook, line, and sinker.

"B-b-but how?" She was sobbing, letting it slur her words. She really sounded scared now, didn't she?

"We'll think of something," Darren was desperate, she could feel it. He liked the damsel in distress as well as any one. What he didn't like was the _hysterical_ damsel in distress. Blaine was just seconds away from hysterics.

"There's nothing!" she wailed and gripped the back of his shirt in tight fists. "There's nothing at all that anyone can do! I'm gonna die! Even with you here to save me it won't matter! He probably has more spells we don't know about that he'll use to kill you first. We're both going to die!"

"Don't say that," Darren commanded, rubbing her back as she sobbed, really into her hysterics now, almost enjoying it.

"I'm too young to die!" she wailed, pulling on the back of Darren's shirt with her tight fists. "I'm only twelve! I have so muchleft to live for! So much more to do! Why is this happening to me, God? Why?"

"Come on now, Princess Blaine. There has to be something that we can do. Something!" Darren was beginning to panic. Blaine made her last move.

Wailing at the top of her lungs she shouted, "If only we could get our hands on that spell! Then we wouldn't have to die! Oh God, why?"

"I know!" Darren shouted suddenly, pulling her back by her shoulders. Looking her in the eye and trying to smile. She quieted her sobs a little so she could hear better.

"Really?" she asked on a hiccupping sob.

"Yes," Darren nodded and smiled. "We'll go to New Haven and get that spell book. Then we can save you!"

"We really can? We can really go to New Haven?" Blaine asked, her sobs almost gone now. Darren nodded again, smiling even wider.

"Okay! I'll go pack!" With that, Blaine skipped away, all her tears forgotten. When she was sure Darren was out of range, she laughed. Men were so easy.

* * *

"What's that smile for?" Darren asked, looking up from his book. Blaine just shook her head and smiled wider.

"Just remembering," she explained then looked down at her swinging feet. Once she had gotten the whole ordeal of telling her two appointed guardians that she was going to New Haven was over, she had thought she was done with the hard part.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

First, she had to inform the royal family of her wish to leave, and they had to approve of it. In order to getthem to approve it she had to change her story a little. She told the King and Queen that she wanted to explore the country she was in with a tour around it to various fifes with a final extended stay at New Haven, the refugee camp so she could see the wreckage of war for herself. A wonderfully knowledgable trip all around. They had agreed immediately.

Then, because she was a princess, she had to contact her own family and tell them what she was up too, so they wouldn't make a surprise visit to Tortall only to find their squire daughter gone. It was courtesy thing. One she would have avoided. Since they lived so far away, she had to send a letter, which had taken nearly a month to get there and back.

And the returning letter hadn't been as cheery as the one she had sent out. Her family (her brother and mother actually. Her father was too sick tomake decisions, so they said) had refused to allow her to tour the country, saying she wouldn't be safe.

She had sent a reply letter saying that not only did she have a bodyguard, who they had hired for the express purpose of protecting her from danger, but she also had a trained knight. A trained knight who was in turn training her. So, she reasoned, she was perfectly protected.

A month later the reply came and they still said no. That she didn't need to see the country. Why did she need to see the country when she could be finishing her studies as a knight?

To this she had replied that knowing her countries was important because what if some day she was in trouble and had to escape on her own? Wouldn't it be helpful if she were to know her way around the country? Plus, knights traveled often on royal business, so it was a learning expirience to travel the country.

When the reply came and they still refused to all her to tour the country, she took it back to the King. By then, they were good friends. She had corresponded with him through letters for several years before she had come to Tortall, so she had known him then. And now, thanks to her stubborn family, she had had reason to visit with him on several occasions to make plans for her trip.

Judging by the curses coming from the room behind her, however, she was afraid that their friendship was being stressed. Heavily stressed.

"I can't believe how foolish her family is being! You'd think they'd be able to trust the knights of this country. They haven't gone through eight years of training and the Chamber of Ordeal to come out incompetent fools, as they seem to think! They have got to be the most stubborn people I've ever had the misfortune of dealing with! I'm just lucky that none of this seemed to rub off on thePrincessBlaine!"

Blaine heard more then one snort from the men on either side of her. She didn't have time to scowl however. The Queen Thayet, who rarely partook in King Jon's rants, was speaking.

"Jon, have you even read the letter?" the queen asked, her voice calm and cool, always a contrast to Jon's.

"Of course I have—"

"Jon, read the letter," the queen commanded in her quiet way.

"I don't need to read the letter I already know what it says! It'll have some foolish excuse or whatnot like it always does. Leave me alone. I want to complain a little! They've caused me enough grief as it is. I deserve a little cooling down time," Blaine could hear the sound of the King pacing and the Queen flipping through the letter.

" 'Dear King Jon, we hereby give you full permission to take our daughter for a tour around the country. However, we are to be informed where she is going, when, and how so that we may be able to come in contact with her at all times. We are also to be informed if anything is to happen to our daughter, even the smallest of accidents. If she is to have so much as a scratch upon her head we want a messaged brought to us immediately. That being said, take care of her. She is vital to the future of our country. Sincerely yours, King Henrick and Queen Thesila.' Seems to me they are quite willing to cooperate this time, Jon. Go tell Princess Blaine the news. She's been waiting outside long enough as it is."

Blaine let out a whoop and started to do a dance before remembering back to the words "However, we are to be informed where she is going, when, and how so that we may be able to come in contact with her at all times." Now she'd actually have to tour the country!

Would things never be easy for her?


	13. Ch 12 A Bit of Irony

A/N Here you lovelies are. The next chapter in my magnificant story. Thank you for the reviews, please keep them coming!

Chapter Twelve: A Bit of Irony

Merric entered the cheerful room with the sun streaming through tall windows of glass, and looked at the large bed that occupied most of the room. Or, more specifically, the lump hiding under the covers of the large bed that occupied most of the room.

He hoped she was enjoying that bed, as it was his. After his father had died during a winter storm when he was just six, his mother had moved out of the master bedroom and given it to Merric. For the four years he had had it he had tried his hardest to make it as cheerful as possible. The exact opposite as his father had kept it.

Jordan of Hollyrose hadn't been the most cheerful of men. In fact, all the memories Merric had of his father were depressing. There wasn't one memory Merric had of his father smiling. He was always scowling, or yelling, or just being moody. So, consequently, his room had been that way too. The walls had been papered a dark green, the rugs over the stone floor dark green as well.

The bed and its hangings had been dark green, and thick black drapes had always been pulled over the tall windows. The only source of light in the room had been the fire, but when it was lit it only seemed to make the room darker with its shadow. Merric had had more then one nightmare about thinks creeping in the shadows of that room.

So he had changed it. He had torn down all the wallpaper until the light colored stones were bare then covered them in beautiful tapestries from other rooms in the house. He had taken down the heavy drapes completely and replaced them with white ones made of light material that fluttered in the breeze if they weren't tired back, which they almost always were, allowing the sunlight into the room. And the bed and its hangings had been taken down and replaced with light blue ones. The rugs had been given the same treatment, replaced by ones varying shades of blue

Now the room was bright and cheerful. But it was the Princess sleeping in his large bed that made the room so wonderfully bright. He had come to realize she made every room lighten with just her smiling face.

His mother, Julia, had been near to chocking with excitement of having an authentic Princess as her son's squire and had nearly swooned when she found out that that princess was staying here, in her house. Merric had promptly been shown to the guest room.

He didn't mind so much though. Blaine had been tired. They had been traveling hard for almost three months now, rushing to get through the traveling so that they could get to Kel's place. She was desperate to get at that spell, and Merric didn't blame her. And she was struggling so hard to keep up with the pace even though she was so tired. So he didn't blame her for beinggiven his own room. In fact, he admired her a little.

Walking across the room he took a seat on the edge of the bed, looking at Blaine's face. And it struck him just how beautiful she was with her soft golden hair falling around to frame her round face. Her lips were full and red with sleep, slightly parted as she breathed, her cheeks full and rosy. When her face was relaxed like this, relaxed in sleep, he felt it was all right to let it out. Let out the fact that he liked her. And not just as a squire.

When she was like this, when her defenses were down and she wasn't trying to push him away, wasn't trying to insult him and he didn't have to try and counter it, it was easy to just bask in her presence, and her beauty, and in the feelings he had for her.

Reaching out a hand, he ran it down the side of her cheek. It really was a soft as it looked. Wondering that had been bothering him for months, practically the whole trip here, which is when the feelings had become noticeable. Before they had been there, but it had been easy to ignore them.

But sharing a tent with her had fixed that, fast. Waking up every morning with her just inches away, sometimes pressed up against him if one of them happened to move in the night. Riding with her in front of him because Darren refused to take the rear guard, watching her ride, watching the way her hair bounced in it's pony tail, listening to the idle chatter she and Darren shared, the easy companionship they had.

Why had he ever wanted Claire over her?

Blaine was amazing, he had come to realize. She acted, all the time, like she didn't know much, like she wasn't very good at the physical part of the knight training. He didn't understand why, maybe she was just trying to hold back another part of herself from him. But he had learned to ignore it and push her further despite the complaining she did. And even if she complained, she never let him down. Merric knew she was far more advanced then Claire was.

And she was fun to be around. Even when she was ignoring him or insulting him, she was fun. Her conversations with Darren were entertaining, they made him laugh. She made him laugh. As far as he could remember, Claire had never done that. He realized now, as he stared down at Blaine's sleeping face, that he had never really liked Claire the way a man likes a woman. He had only clung on to Claire so long because he was mad at the King for taking away his choice. And it had been wrong of him to take it out on Blaine, he knew that now.

Swinging his feet up onto the bed, Merric leaned back against the pillows beside Blaine, running a hand gently over her hair. She smiled in her slip and tipped up her head just the slightest, as if aiming that smile at him. Maybe, deep down behind all the fake fronts and hidden feelings, maybe she liked him too.

"Good morning, Blaine," Merric whispered, bending his head down to hers, a peaceful smile on his face. Maybe… just maybe… things could be like he had imagined they would be between a man and his woman squire.

Blaine breathed in a deep breath, and sighed out, "Chris." Merric was too startled to move as she rolled closer to him, pressed against him, wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed her nose into his side. He could feel her smiling as she held him tight, tight like she never wanted to let him go.

She thought he was someone else.

* * *

Blaine frowned, as her brain grew fuzzy with fading fatigue and lingering sleep. She shivered, feeling warmth being pulled from her. Had someone taken her blankets? No, they were still there. Rolling to the side, she felt, or more like didn't feel, the bed sink under her sudden weight. It was warm there. Someone… someone had been there with her?

Who would do that? Darren?

"Wake up!" Blaine startled and tried to force her eyelids open. They were heavy, like big bricks of sleeping dust were weighing them back down. But she forced them open, rubbed at them to clear away the sleepy dust. "Get dressed!"

Blaine frowned again, looked over towards the sound of the voice. Merric? "What are you doing in here?"

"It's my room, you know. Get dressed right now. We're going out to train." He was angry. Why was he angry? Had it been him sitting on the bed beside her? What had he been doing there if it was him?

Without a word Blaine stood and reached for her travel light back, dragging it along with her sleepy body into the dressing room, as she turned to close the door, she took a last look at him. He had the most disgusted look on his face. It shocked her, that look, but not as much as her own reactions to it.

She closed the door quietly then stepped into the room and dropped her back onto the ground carelessly, pressed a fist to her racing heart. What was this? Why was it racing like this? She knew why almost immediately.

It had been that look. In all the time they had been together, nearly a year now, he had never looked at her like that. All the insults, the jabs at his ego, the pricks at his pride. No matter how angry she had ever made him he had never looked at her like that. Like he hated her, like he wanted her to just disappear. It was a horrible feeling, to be looked at like that.

But, it wasn't like it mattered what Merric thought of her, Blaine hastily assured herself as she slipped out of her night wear and began washing herself with a cloth since there was no bath awaiting her in the spacious dressing room. It was only bothering her because she didn't understand why he had looked at her that way. What did she ever do to earn that, anyways?

She blew out her breath and bent over to start to wash behind her knees and made a shocking discovery. There was blood on her thighs. She straightened up so fast her back cracked. Why hadn't she been paying attention? If she had she could have seen this coming.

How old was she now? Twelve? No… she had had her birthday a month back, but hadn't been able to do any sort of celebration (not that the people here really celebrated birthdays the way people of earth did) because of the fact that they had been traveling. She was thirteen now. Earlier then this had happened the first time, she decided. But in much the same way.

Now what though? If Merric was right and this was his room, it wasn't likely she'd find feminine products. Puzzling, she thought, trying to decide on a course of action. Only one thing to do. Struggling into a shirt and breeches she pulled out of her bag she left the room, wanting to go in search of Merric's mother, Julia.

"Are you ready to go?" Merric asked, turning to her from where he had been staring out the window. His eyes were still smoldering with that disgust she had seen. She almost took a step back from it, from the intensity. Instead she lifted her chin, facing it head on and let her own eyes smolder.

"I need to go find your mother," Blaine said icily and started towards the door, her pace slowed considerably when a vicious cramp attacked her stomach. She winced and hesitated in her step, allowing Merric to get in front of her, blocking the door.

"What do you need her for? I don't remember my mother being an expert on squire training. Unless your about to ask her the perfect balance weight of a two-handed staff you had best get back in that dressing room and finish getting ready. If your finished now, I can haul you out to the gates for your morning run. Your choice Princess."

Blaine practically shivered at the sound of his voice. She thought she had mastered the cold shoulder, but this was down right frigid. There was some… authenticity missing in her voice, which she was able to hear in his, that had this effect on her she was sure.

"I have a problem. I need your mother's help fixing it. Move aside Peasant," she hissed, her eyes flashing. The cramps were really starting now. She had enjoyed her five years without this part of the female life. Why did it have to start again today?

"Why don't you call for you precious Chris to help you?" Merric shouted suddenly, throwing his hands out to the side. Blaine felt something in her body snap. She pulled back, pulled into herself, her hands curled into her suddenly heaving chest.

"W-what?" the stuttered question fumbled past her quivering lips, her quivering chin. Her whole body was shaking, she could feel it. She knew what this was, hated it. Hormones had her emotions flooding through her body and then this… having this thrown into her face. She was humiliated when she felt tears building in her throat.

"You heard me! Why don't you have Chris fix your little problem! He's what you want anyways. You're precious little Chris." Merric started creeping towards her, and his voice and eyes were scary in the levels of hatred they were taking on.

Blaine could feel panic tightening in her chest. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all because she was afraid she couldn't handle this. Chris had been locked away tight in her mind for so long now, so long. The door had been glued shut with the strongest material she had.

And now Merric was trying to drag it all down, trying to force him into the open? With her emotions on high like they were, she couldn't deal with this. She just couldn't.

"Shut up!" She hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about and if you know what's good for you you'll step aside now and forget you ever heard that name, do you understand peasant?"

"What I understand is that this whole time, everything I've ever done for you, you've had thoughts about no one but your infamous Chris. Are you in love with him?" Merric took that final step until he was standing right in front of her, then he grabbed her by her upper arms, shook her, lifted her off her feet until she was level with his face, close to it. "Answer me!"

Blaine looked into his eyes, saw those emotions bulging through them, but she saw something else. Someone else.

Time stopped, everything stopped, as she looked into Merric's eyes and saw the shadow of a man in them. The same one she had seen before. He had that devious smile on his face, the one that made her toes curl with the evil that it exuded. Who was he? She watched as that smile formed four words.

"I'm coming for you."

"What the hell is going on? Put the princess down immediately!" Blaine felt herself drop, felt the connection in their eyes break, saw the shadow recede. But the disgust didn't lesson. That had been real. Just like the anger had been real the time before. It seemed the man couldn't create the emotions, could simply manipulate them, magnify them, build them up to the greatest heights and then use them to control Merric.

All the same she had rather the emotions weren't real, because as unsettling as it was, she didn't like that Merric felt this way towards her. Blaine stepped back, focused in on the conversation and gave a weak smile to Darren.

"Excuse me please? I need to go speak with Merric's mother," Blaine brushed past both men and into the corridor, swallowing tears that wanted nothing more then to escape.

* * *

An hour later, a thoroughly embarrassed Blaine stood at the gates of Merric's fife, waiting for directions. At that very moment she was telling the trees of the forest around her the curses of her fate, coming to this world as a woman. Or more accurately, having lived on Earth with their great inventions, such things as Advil and Tylenol. Anything at all that she had ever sampled that had numbed the pain she was currently experiencing in her lower abdomen.

"This freaking bites!" she cursed and placed her hands on her hips, bent at them. The pain minimized, slightly, but any relief was welcomed. She just wanted to get this training over with. Merric still had that look in his eyes, but it had altered some. Now it was part disgust, part hatred, and a greater part hurt. She wondered what had happened while she had slept that morning. But if it had anything to do with Chris, which the earlier argument implied, she figured she was better of leaving it alone.

"Best to let sleeping dogs lie," she said aloud and stared at Merric. Maybe if she bore holes into the back of his head he would turn around and tell her what it was he wanted her to do. She was tired of standing here.

"Start running Princess. When you pass the tree with the white stripe painted around it, turn around and run back. You're not allowed to walk, and trust me," he said, his eyes darkening dangerously, "I'll know if you walk. And right now, you don't want to disobey my orders. I'm not feeling very charitable."

Grumbling, Blaine turned and began jogging slowly down the path. He expected her to run the whole way? Didn't he know by now how much she hated running? And he probably was setting her out on an extremely long run just to punish her.

For something she didn't even realize she had done no less! Oh the injustices of life, she thought with a dark scowl as she felt her breathing thickening. She was tired, in pain, and not in the mood for anything like this. She considered stopping and walking, just to spite him, but realized that would get her nowhere. She might as well run the whole thing just to get it over with.

Looking down at her feet, Blaine began counting her steps, just so she could hold it against Merric when he made her run more then ever before just to punish her.

She didn't see the figure stepping out of the forest surrounding her until it was too late.

* * *

"What are you doing, by the way?" Merric looked up at the bodyguard who was peering down at the rough sketch he was making of the fife he had lived in all his life that he held in his hands.

"I'm mapping the fife," Merric said bitterly before looking back down at the map. He began drawing straight lines down across the pages, separating it into sections.

"And what's that for?"

"I'm turning it into a grid. If you have a grid, it's easier to do a search. You can go square by square on the map. That way you make sure you've looked everywhere," Merric explained patiently as he moved to draw straight lines across the page. Keladry had thought of that, after the search she had conducted when rescuing the refugees of the now current New Haven. He had to admit, it was a great idea. And it was time-consuming. The perfect way to punish the Princess for what she had done. Calling him by some other man's name. Where was she anyways?

Frowning, Merric looked up from his drawing, looking down the road he had sent the Princess running down. She should have been back by now, or near to it. She must be walking.

He smiled darkly. Now he would get to punish her more for disobeying his orders. This day was suddenly looking bright. Very bright indeed.

* * *

She was walking through the forest, but she had lost the path, lost it somewhere. Now _she_ was lost. But it was all right, she told her frightened mind. It was okay. She couldn't be off the path to far, could she?

She looked around frantically, trying to gauge where she was. Those trees didn't look at all familiar. Shouldn't they though? She had just passed them. They looked… different.

Her hair swirled as she faced front and started walking again. A little faster when she heard movement behind her. Was she being followed? That was silly! It wasn't like she was on the streets of New York late at night. Who could possibly be following her? Best to just face it, get it over with. She was a trained squire, she could handle herself in a fight, couldn't she?

She spun on her heel, ready to confront the man following her. But all she saw were trees. She turned back around and started walking again, scolding herself.

She was being crazy, irrational. Wasn't she? But she could hear it, hear the noises. Some one was following her! But she was a fast runner. She could outdistance them if she tried. But only if she needed too. Running was for cowards or last minute escapes.

A tree branch snapped and like a frightened deer she broke into a sprint, running as fast as she could, as far as she could. She didn't make it very far. Her ankle caught on a tree root sticking up from the ground, twisted. She fell, her hands biting into the earth, her cheek scrapped along a rock. She could hear him coming, but now there was more then one. Following her, stalking her.

Hunting her.

Air was sobbing out of her lungs as she tried to rise to her feet, tried to stand to walk away. Her ankle crumbled under her weight and she fell to her knees, crawled. She had to get away; she couldn't let them catch her.

A hand circled her ankle, slithered up her calf like a snake, and latched on, pulled. She scrambled with her hands, digging in, trying to get purchase she so could get away. They didn't give her that chance.

She screamed as she was dragged viciously backwards. But she wouldn't be a coward, she couldn't let herself be. Turning in the chilly grasp she turned to face her opponent.

Her vision was captured by the towering figure of a dark, menacing tree, with a face that glowed with eyes of gold and mouth that yawned open with jagged teeth. Teeth that she was slowly but steadily being pulled to. Sharp, broken branches swayed in the wind, bent down, scratched her as she was pulled, pulled, pulled.

Not a hand around her leg, a tree root, pulling her back to the source. She screamed as the root gave a final cruel tug and pulled her into the abyss that was the tree's existence, felt the wood close in around her, crushing her, her bones, her flesh, her life. With a final snap she was sealed inside. And she died.

A bird called in the distance and she blinked, looked into eyes that were as brown as the bark of the trees around her and she screamed.

But it was cut short by two strong hands clasping around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Blaine slammed her eyes closed, telling herself over and over like a mantra, Don't look into his eyes. Don't look into his eyes. If she looked she would be sucked into another vision, lose all chance of fighting through this one.

Only this was different. This _wasn't_ a vision. This was _real_.

* * *

Darren's head snapped up when he heard the scream. Blaine's scream.

"Holy Mithros what was that? Blaine!" He broke into a sprint Merric close on his heels. What had he been thinking? Letting her go off gallivanting on her own when there was a man after her? A man trying to kill her? Was he crazy or just stupid?

If anything were to happen to her, only he would be to blame and he would never be able to forgive himself. Never be able to live through the grief of losing that little hellion. She was his life.

"Hurry!" he shouted to Merric and pushed himself to run harder.

* * *

Panic had her frozen. For about three vital seconds where she lived without air. Her mouth opened, sucked in air. But nothing passed through to her lungs. Nothing got passed the chocking hold this man had on her throat. If she wanted to breath again, she had to get him to let go.

Her fingers grabbed at his, scrambled to find a sensitive spot, to grab onto or dig into, anything that would hurt, anything to let him go. She was sucking at air like a fish out of water but was getting nothing, nothing.

Desperate times, desperate measures. Her arms felt like weights as she lifted them, cocked them at the elbow. She could see stars, and black dots, clouding her vision, clouding her mind. Her arms were just so heavy, just so hard to hold up. She let them fall.

Gravity did most of the work, but her elbows slammed into the man's weakened elbow joints, caused them to snap closed, broke the hold around her neck.

Blaine stumbled back, gasping for air, chocking on the sudden rush of it that filled her lungs. She grabbed at her throat, rubbing at it, coaxing it back into life as oxygen filled her brain, her limbs, gave her life once more.

The man was coming at her again and her self-defense lessons she had taken on Earth engaged. As the man with the eyes so brown charged mindlessly towards her, Blaine cocked her wrist and slammed the palm of her hand into his nose simultaneously with slamming her knee into his crotch.

The blow knocked him back, but didn't stop him. He charged at her again. This time Blaine made a fist with her hand and hit him, hard, knocking his head to the side. But he came back. He just kept coming back.

Blaine was struggling for breath, for purchase, for the upper hand when she remembered the knife she had stuck hastily into her belt before leaving for her jog. She hit the man again, sent him stumbling back long enough that she could grab the knife.

The man rushed again, he was practically mindless, and she was forced to do it. Closing her eyes, turning her head to the side so she didn't see it, didn't want to see it, she rammed the knife into his gut when he rushed her, pushed it in to the hilt, sliced up.

She heard a whooshing noise and when she opened her eyes, she saw nothing.

Stunned she looked down at her knife but there was no blood, there was no man, no trace, no evidence. He had vanished. Where had he gone? Where _could_ he have gone? One minute she was sticking him and the next he was vanished? Things didn't work like that, men just didn't disappear, and not even here with this world that had magic.

She looked around, did a full circle, but there was nothing. No one. She was alone, except for a pile of tree litter settling at her feet.

"Blaine!" Darren turned a corner, saw her standing there and rushed to her, checked her all over for bruises and bumps, for any sort of wound. And found the bruises just beginning to form around her neck in the shape of fingers. "What happened? Where did he go?"

He stepped away, searching the surrounding area frantically. But like Blaine he found no trace at all of the man, just the scuffled tracks surrounding Blaine. No tracks leading away, no tracks leading to this place, nothing. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

Hurrying back, Darren pushed Merric aside, stood in front of Blaine, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "What happened, princess?" he asked softly, checking for shock. It was in her eyes, as was the pain that was settling around her neck and in her throat.

Her voice rasped when she spoke. "He disappeared. I cut him with my knife, but when I looked back, he was gone. He was just… gone. We… we have to find that spell, Darren. We have to find it now. This goes beyond what it had been. He physically attacked me. We have to find it!"

"I know, Princes, I know. Let's get you back inside, we'll pack our things and head out." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, Darren began walking, his eyes watching in every direction for any trace of the man. He wouldn't find any, unless he bothered to look at the ground in front of where Blaine had stood.


	14. Ch 13 Buried

A/N Here you guys go! This isa very important chapter, so PLEASE REVIEW to tell me what you think. Okay? Good! It is also the longest one yet,just so you know.I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter Thirteen: Buried

"Faster!" Blaine shouted, slapping at her horse with the loose ends of her reins. She could see Merric and Darren fleeing in front of her, and she urged her horse to keep pace. New Haven was within sight—Within sight!—all she had to do was make it there.

But she could hear the horse behind her, hear its hooves pounding just as hard and just as fast into the ground behind her. Possibly gaining?

"Open the gates!" she screamed as loud as she could, praying they would hear her, figuring they wouldn't. And figuring on that, she grabbed the bow of her back, and the arrows. Since the attack at Hollyrose, all of them had taken to strapping on as many weapons as they could carry. She herself was packing an impressive number herself.

About three miles outside of the gates to New Haven, in the coverage of trees when her bottle green eyes had met a pair of brown ones. She hadn't thought about the eyes, hadn't allowed herself to look at them. She had squeezed them shut tight, shouted as loud as she could, and spurred her horse in the side.

Now here she was, racing as fast as her horse would carry her into New Haven. The packhorse had been left far behind, unable to keep up with the weight on it's back. If she weren't careful, she wouldn't be able to keep up. None of them would.

The horses were tired. She had been getting the spooks lately. Though she hadn't seen any more of the men since Merric's home, she could practically feel them, feel their intent aimed at her, feel it crawling along her skin like a sickness. And she had hated it.

All she wanted was to make it stop, make it go away. And the only way to do that was to find that spell. So she had pushed, and pushed hard. On her insistence they had been rising before the sun and stopping after it had disappeared into the horizon. The horses were tired, the riders were tired; everyone was plain out exhausted.

She prayed they would make the final stretch.

But she pulled out the bow, pulled out the arrow, because she realized it was near to impossible. With the rushing up vision of the refugee camp in front of her, she maneuvered in her seat, turning herself onto the saddle so she was no longer sitting astride but nearly sidesaddle, until she was able to turn at the waist and face the man behind her.

Focus, she told herself, willing herself to ignore the jostling of the horse, the bumpiness of the ride, the fact that at any second she could lose her seating and fall to her death. She evened her breathing, closed her eyes and calmed her mind, then opened them in one slow movement.

There was a pattern in everything, she told herself, all she had to do was find it, find the moment when she could shoot the arrow she had knocked and it would hit. Up. Up. Down. Up. Up. Down. Up. Up. Down.

There.

She loosed her arrow, heard the string ping, and lost the sight of it as the gates of New Haven closed behind her. Safe.

Twisting, she let her legs fall, let her body fall forward until she was clasping the neck of the horse, pulled it to a stop, and jumped from the horse, her feet hitting the ground at a run.

She could hear the excited chatter about her, the call of commands, the whispers, the shouts, but she ignored them all. She ignored the call to arms, the astonished reply's that the man was gone. One thing was in her mind, one thing only. Find the spell.

"That was a nice shot, Lady. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" a grinning face was all she saw before she scowled, darkly, and stepped around him, taking a scan of the buildings. Which one would have the library, she wondered.

Might as well search them all.

Grumbling, she started heading up towards the buildings when she felt a hand grip her arm forcefully and pull her around. She tried to tug away, but the hand squeezed hard. She yelped. Looking up into Merric's face she snarled. Was he _still_ in a bad mood from whatever had happened nearly a week ago? She made ready to spew out obscene curses when Merric grabbed her chin and forced her to look at the knights standing speechless in front of her.

"Excuse me for my squire's behavior. She is a little out of sorts," Merric's voice was tight and hard. "Give your respects to the knights, Princess."

This time she wrenched away, both her chin and her arm. She gave a hasty curtsey then rounded on Merric. "I'm sorry, Peasant, for my stupidity. Obviously I shouldn't be hurrying along my search. No, obviously not. We should take as long as possible. Because that'll really help. Yes, let's all stand out here, in the middle of broad daylight and chit-chat. Where's the tea and the biscuits and the goddamned sugar?" she screamed.

"I don't have time for this! Do you not understand the situation? Huh? Do you not realize the fact that at any freakin' second ninja's might come jumping over the wall to kill me? There's no FBI or CIA! There's no secret service even though the Goddamned President of the United Freakin' States gets one, which he hardly deserves! There aren't even any freakin' cops! I have to do this myself! No one is there to do it for me! So help me or get out of my way!"

With the shouted words echoing off the walls of the fort, Blaine pushed Merric, hard enough to force him a step back, then stomped off. Her guess was that the library would be in the biggest building. So she made for it.

She could hear people following her, but she didn't care. She had to get to the spell. She had to get to it. That would explain everything, fix everything. She just needed to get to it. Everything would be put to rights if she could just get her hands on it.

Wrenching open the door to the wooden building, she stepped in and made towards the nearest door. Opening it she found an office. She cursed, closed it, and moved to the next. This one was a weapon's room. She didn't have time for curses now.

Running, she checked behind every door in the building and didn't find her library, or her book. No big deal, she told herself, as she stalked to the front door, must be in a different building. There were plenty, she could find it. She had to.

She had to, Blaine told herself as she stepped out into the light, or the pressure in her chest would never leave, the tears in her throat would never dissolve. She had to find it, she had to.

"Blaine, princess, you're mumbling to yourself. And you're shaking," Darren, his warm arms closed around her pulled her into his chest. She wanted the comfort, needed it. But she needed that book more.

"Where's the library? Where's the library? I can't find it. Darren, I can't find it. It has to be here. The book has to be here. I can't… I can't go back out there. They'll get me. Where is it? Where is it?"

"This way," a gentle voice spoke, the only sound. If the panic had receded just the slightest from her brain she would have realized that the entire camp had stopped its movement to watch her.

A hand gripped Blaine's arm, pulled her gently into a building—the same one?— opened a door into an office, pointed at the desk. Books, piles and piles of books on the desk. How had she missed them?

She pawed through them, her hands shaking, clawing and clawing, growing frantic as she got closer and closer to the bottom. Then, like the heaven's opened and God's light shown down, she saw it.

_The Legend of the Books of Three._

"It's here," she whispered, felt tears of utter relief spilling down her cheeks. She looked up at Darren through watery eyes. "I found it!"

Pushing the books out of the way, Blaine sat at the desk in the strange office and promptly began reading.

* * *

"Why is that fickle little brat locked in _my_ office?" Alanna demanded, hands squarely on her slim hips, violet eyes blazing with barely restrained temper. Darren, who wasn't normally susceptible to intimidation, felt his insides shake. This woman, this short, stocky woman with fire for hair and in her eyes, made him want to run back into the office and use Blaine as his shield.

But Blaine had stopped responding to anything. She just sat, and read, her eyes moving sluggishly across the page. And when she had lifted her hand to turn it, it had been so slow, like moving through mud. It had scared him, but he couldn't pull her away. Today had been a close call. He wanted her to find that spell nearly as badly as she wanted to herself.

"Look, can we find a place to sit down and I can explain?" Darren pleaded with the woman, then with the other nobles standing behind her. As a second thought, he bowed respectfully. Still no one said anything.

Darren met Merric's eyes. The man was standing at the entrance to the building, leaning against he doorjamb, arms crossed sullenly across his chest. His face was set in a blank mask, but his eyes were scowling. Darren wanted to scowl too.

Why wasn't he helping at all? Didn't he understand the direness of the situation? Darren had more then once wanted to grab the knight by his throat and give him a good shake. The man was being a complete dunderhead, snapping at Blaine all the time, making her work every night when they stopped to rest the horses.

Even though they were all exhausted by that time of night and could have spread the chores out between the three of them to make it easier, Merric had ordered Blaine to do it all, saying because she was the squire, she should have the honors. Darren knew, as well as Blaine did, that Merric was just trying to be nasty, and he was succeeding.

Now they were close to being in real trouble and he was just going to step back and let it happen? Darren was fast losing respect the knight had earned long ago.

Laughter suddenly filled the silence as an apparently deliriously happy couple came through the door, giving Merric a happy pat on the back. However, the girl picked up immediately on the tension in the room.

"What's going on? Alanna? Kel? Neal?" Lady Knight Keladry and Sir Nealan were here? Darren searched the crowd of faces and saw the two. Hope bloomed. Maybe Sir Merric didn't want to help him, but those two surely would.

"Some little brat came screaming in, speaking gibberish as far as I could tell, then locked herself in my room!" Alanna fumed, not turning around the face the newcomers, instead, watching Darren closely.

"She's not a brat! Begging your pardon, my Lady. But that was Princess Blaine Marissa De Veinto of Tusaine, daughter of King Henrick and Queen Thesila, brother to Prince Terry, and squire to Sir Knight Merric of Hollyrose," Darren finished in his most majestic voice, puffing out his chest.

"So? That gives her to right to steal my desk?" Darren nearly sighed. Did this woman have no sense when she was angry? But Darren supposed he could forgive. Blaine had been acting hysterically since the chase had begun with her attacker.

"No, it does not. But the reason why she ran in there does. If we could please find a place to sit, I will explain what has been happening with Blaine all the way back to the beginning of the attacks," Darren bowed again, then looked up with pleading eyes. Here, Nealan pushed through the crowds to the front.

"Attacks? What sort of attacks? What's going on? Is the Princess all right?" Darren gave him a grateful bow then motioned for a chair. Keladry stepped out of the crowd also and lead them into a room set aside for official meetings. Darren was glad to see that there were enough chairs for all of them.

Darren was given the seat at the very end, the one reserved for messengers, while Keladry took the head of the table. Darren watched the others file in.

There was Sir Nealan, and Claire! He hadn't seen her before. But he hadn't really been looking. Then there came the red-haired lady followed by a short blonde knight evidence of his bearing, a tall soldier who looked similar to Sir Nealan, the two new comers, and three other men, which he assumed to be refugees, as they didn't have the presence of nobles. And then, finally, Merric sauntered in.

"Alright, now, Darren, tell us about these attacks—"

"And why she's still in my office!"

"Alright, it started… well, almost a year to the day ago. Funny, I hadn't realized we'd been in Tortall that long," Darren stopped to figure and it was true. They really had been in Tortall for almost a year exactly.

"The reasons, Darren," a voice, the woman with the violet eyes.

"Right. The first attack came when we crossed the border into Tortall…" Darren proceeded to tell them of all the attacks leading up to that point.

* * *

As the last page in the book turned, Blaine blinked her eyes for the first time in nearly three hours. Then she hissed when they stung like mad. Reaching up she began rubbing at her eyes and made a very curious discovery. She couldn't remember anything she read.

No, that wasn't true. She knew she remembered it, she could feel it there, in her brain. She just couldn't seem to access the information. Maybe she was just tired, she thought, reaching down and placing her hands over the book possessively.

But a voice in her head, one that sounded astonishingly like Gainel's, was telling her that when she needed the information it would come to her. Well, that's handy, she thought. But it left her back at square one.

With a book, a head full of spells she couldn't access, and a man that went to any lengths, it appeared, to kill her. And not a step further in the mission. This whole thing seemed like a wild goose chase to her. She was getting nowhere, doing nothing.

Why had he ever picked her?

Back then, when she had been in between, he should have let her go. Instead of offering her a mission, he should have just let her spirit die. Instead of offering her a second chance, which she was obviously failing miserably at using, he should have let her spirit drift into the beyond.

It would be better then just sitting here, doing nothing, with a book in her hands that she couldn't even remember. And what was it he had said anyway? What was the actual mission? She knew he had told her, but then the whole Death Eye men situation had showed up and she had forgotten the rest, had focused on them. And then there was the whole Merric/Chris situation, not the mention the shadow in said man's eyes.

She guessed that between all that she had lost the real goal, the real mission. And now, now she couldn't even remember what it was.

"Once you are well on your way to becoming a knight, I will have a mission for you to fix a mistake made by a foolish young mage who tried to aspire to great heights, and instead managed to put the entire world in danger. Are you up to it?" the voice, that sounded so much like Gainel, whispered in her ear. That had been her mission. Wait…

Foolish mage?

She felt a crackling in her brain before words appeared in her mind, written in a long scrawling hand.

_ The origin of these Books of Three is said to be of a young mage. A mage, who in fact, has thus far, been surpassed by no one. The mage created the spells inside the books, including the hidden one._

_ The mage, who is said the greatest and strongest mage of all times, was greatly loved by his king, and used often in battles and the like. He was commissioned by the king to create the three books and fill them with spells that would make the King unstoppable. And because the mage was loyal, he did as he was told._

_ The mage traveled the country for many years, experimenting and creating the spells that are inside the three books. It is said, however, that after completing the books and beginning the return journey to his king, he was visited in his dreams by a vision sent by the Gods. A vision that showed him many greatly terrible things that his spells would cause._

_ Realizing what he had done, the mage decided he had to destroy the books so the spells could never be used for evil, as evil hands would intend if they gained possession. However, when the time came to destroy the books, the mage could not. He had poured his life and his soul into the books and could not bring himself to destroy them. Instead, he separated the books and hid them where he believed no one would ever be able to find them._

_ When he returned to the king empty handed, the king, who had never really loved the mage, only the power the mage could bring him, had the mage killed. It was said that because of the great power the mage exuded and the great courage he showed by hiding the books and facing his king anyways, he was turned into a god and watches over the books from the heavens, making sure they remain hidden and out of evil hands._

The Books of Three! That had been the mage's foolish mistake. Creating the books of three. So, she was supposed to un-create them? That didn't make sense. How was she supposed to do that? No!

Like a light switch being flicked on she realized, his foolish mistake hadn't been creating the books. If he hadn't created them someone else would have, someone else who might not have been strong enough to hide them. No, his mistake had been in not _destroying_ them.

Her mission was to find and destroy the Books of Three? Yes, that had to be it. That was the only thing that made perfect sense. She had to find and destroy the Books of Three. Well, that didn't seem to hard, she reasoned, relaxing back in the chair, the book now in her lap.

But that still left the question of the Death Eye men. Gainel had… what had he said? He had… he had asked how she had liked her first taste of the mission. Of course, he had been referring back to the attack on the boat. The attack by the men with the Death Eyes. What did the men with the Death Eyes have to do with the mission?

Again, she felt the crackling in her brain and saw the words before her eyes.

_ In the first book, the Book of Creation, are spells that center on creating things, such as water out of thin air, or fire. It is also said, that the true reason that power hungry people seek this book is for the Spell of Creation. It is said that this spell allows the mage to take the materials around him—be it rocks, water, sand, plants, even fog—and create a person from it. Granted, the person would not have feelings or be able to make it's own decision. It is created for the sole purpose of carrying out its creators will. It is also said, but never confirmed, that if one were to look into the creations eyes, it would see a vision of its own death._

So… so the men that attacked her had been from a spell in the Book of Creation, part of the Books of Three. But what did that mean? What could that possibly have to do with the mission? Then she knew. She gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she jumped to a standing position, the book falling open at her feet.

Some one had found one of the Books of Three. Someone was _looking_ for the Books of Three. Someone who had an evil intent.

"Oh God, _Oh GOD! _I'm too late! I'm too late!" She started to pace, running her hands over her face. No, no she wasn't! She wasn't too late. He had only found one book, just one! If she started now, started looking right now, she might beat him to the punch. Might find one of the books before he did.

And the books, though very useful separately, were more useful if they were together. So if she had one, just one, the set wouldn't be complete. She had to find one.

But where? Where the hell could they possibly be? And how could she possibly find them? It wasn't like she had the Internet, or even a speedy means of transportation. It would take years for her to search the entire country for just one book. No, it would take lifetimes! She didn't have lifetimes! She had been lucky enough to get two, now she needed to ask for even more? That was impossible! This quest was impossible!

Thoroughly deflated and defeated, Blaine slumped back into the chair she had been sitting in, rested her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, and looked down at the floor. What she saw gave her hope.

* * *

"So… let me get this straight," Lady Knight Alanna, Darren knew who she was now, said again. Of course he knew who she was. She had only been going over and over and over again all the attacks that he knew about that had happened to Blaine for over three hours now. He didn't know why she kept asking; there was nothing new to tell.

"Yes?" he asked, clenching his jaw in frustration. It's not like she'd be able to pinpoint who it was. It was most likely someone from Tusaine, and as Tortall and Tusaine weren't on exactly speaking terms there was no way she'd be able to tell who it was. So this, he thought, was a waste of time he could be using to help Blaine find the spell.

"You were attacked on the boat? And the Princess said she saw a vision of her death by drowning in water?" Darren nearly rolled his eyes. Instead he just nodded.

"Then there was an attack in the garden and the Princess says the vision was of vines and spiders killing her?" Again Darren nodded.

"And the last attack was in the woods and she had a vision of being killed by a tree? A tree that walked, ran, and stalked her?"

"Yes, yes and more yes! Why do you keep me here? I could be helping her instead of answering the same questions over and over again! This is pointless, aggravating and—"

"I need maps!" Blaine stormed into the room, the door slamming open wide behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild. She was breathing hard, as if she had just ran a mile. "I said I need maps!"

The roomful of people chose instead to stare at her. She felt anger bubble and stepped further into the room. "I don't have time for you to sit and stare at me like a bunch of mindless animals I need maps! God, why couldn't you have invented the high-speed Internet yet?" she tipped her head back to look at the ceiling and ran a hand through her hair. "You're slower then freakin' dialup! Where are my maps!"

"I'm sorry Princess, what kind of maps?" Blaine zeroed in on Kel and wanted to sing praises. Finally, someone was listening and doing something. She wanted to dance with delight. Until the question registered.

"Genius! We have a genius on our hands. What luck," her voice was darkly sarcastic as she began to pace, clutching at the book in her hand. "Maps of Tortall! And a map of this area! Mapquest! That's what I need right now. Ten seconds flat! That's how long it would take me to get my maps if I had Mapquest. Ten seconds. What are you doing just standing there? I need those maps!"

Darren blinked, thoroughly shocked at the sight he saw standing in front of him. She looked like a wild woman with her hair all disarrayed and her eyes filled with blood. He was surprised the knights in the room with him didn't jump on her and restrain her. She was practically foaming at the mouth.

Instead, Lady Knight Keladry rose and slowly led Blaine out of the room, the door closing softly behind them. The room was oddly silent for several seconds.

"God she was beautiful."

Darren swiveled in his chair, trying to see which person had said that. Then realized it wouldn't be that hard as everyone else was staring at him, including the woman he had walked in with. Darren gave him a careful glance.

He was tall; Darren remembered that from when he had first walked into the building. He had dark hair and very enchanting eyes. Eyes that looked extremely dreamy and not at all focused on the room or the people gawking at him.

"Excuse me?" this from the woman he was with. She had long thick brown hair and beautiful smoky gray eyes that were smoldering just now.

"Did you see it Alanna? Did you see they way she was glowing? Just the faintest hint of gold, shimmering around her. Did you see it?"

"No, Numair, I didn't. Guess I'm still too angry about her stealing my office," Alanna answered, but Darren didn't think she looked all that angry anymore. In fact, she looked puzzled now, as if she couldn't figure out what the Princess had wanted maps for.

"I'm sorry, excuse me, but who exactly are you? And why would it be you are ogling the Princess?" Darren asked in his most prim voice, trying to be insulting and commanding at the same time. The man took no offense. In fact, he laughed.

"No, I'm sorry I forget myself sometimes. I'm Numair, the Black Mage. I came to New Haven to lift the big rocks from under the grounds around here to fortify the walls, like I did for the first camp. It was by sheer luck that I got to see that vision. Tell me, that gold light, was that her Gift?"

"Princess Blaine doesn't have the Gift," Darren said, then stood, bowed, and went to find her. He was going to convince her to rest, and finish with whatever she was doing with the maps tomorrow.

"Must be a spell then. But Mithros, she was beautiful."

* * *

Yes, yes! This was it! It was all falling into place. Blaine did a little dance as she compared the maps once again. It all made perfect sense! Oh the strange ways fate works. Keladry wanting to bring the books here, and then Lady Knight Alanna bringing the one that Blaine needed the most.

That way she was forced to come here, forced to read the book. And to find the maps at the back of it. Maps that were the supposed whereabouts of the Books of Three. And as luck would have it, one of them was here.

Buried in the hardest of earth.

Here was the hardest of earth. She had asked, quite forcefully, what the soil was like around the area. And she had gotten her answer. Terrible. She couldn't have been happier.

The man she had asked, she didn't know who, it was late and she hadn't bothered to stop and ask his name. The man had told her that the ground appeared to be good, on the top. But a few feet down she'd find rocks. Big rocks. Hard rocks. Under that, no one knew because no one had found a way to get under them.

Buried in the hardest of earth.

What was harder then rock? And rock was part of earth. It made sense! The book was here, buried under the rocks by a spell, no doubt. And no one had been able to find them because no one could get to them through the rocks.

But those rocks hadn't met Blaine just yet! She's chip her way through them if it took her years! She had to get to that book. She _would _get that book. Had to get to it before any one else! It was her duty, her obligation.

Her mission.

Swinging a shovel and pick axe over her shoulder and wishing they had invented dynamite already, Blaine grabbed the book, the maps and a lantern and headed out into the night, prepared to dig for all she was worth.


	15. Ch 14 Pressure

A/N Here you go. This is a big BIG chapter. So enjoy it. And Review!

Chapter Fourteen: Pressure

"Mithros, you're even beautiful in lantern light," Blaine frowned and looked behind her, then nearly screamed. In the shadows stood a man, a tall one, who loomed out of the darkness like a bad dream. His dark hair wrecked havoc across the features of his long face. His clothes were dark, so dark he was nearly indistinguishable from the shadows.

Limbs shaking, she lifted the lantern up high, allowing the light of the lantern to fall on his form. She shuddered when his face split into a wide grin. She dropped the book along with the maps to the ground, then set the lantern down carefully before gripping the shovel in her hands like a bat.

"Who are you?" she demanded, and bent at the knee, ready to take a mighty swing like she would at a baseball. "What do you want? Hey! Stay back!"

He took a step forward, unheeded by her words. Blaine started to shiver. She really didn't want to use the shovel. It would be worse then a bat because of the metal piece at the end of it. There would be blood, but she could turn her head.

"I told you to stay back!" he kept walking. He was in the light now, she could see his face. He didn't look nearly as scary in the light, almost handsome. But she couldn't trust anyone now. No one at all. It could be anyone who had the spell book. Even this man. Even… her mind shuddered, but she made herself say it. Even Darren.

"I said. Get. Back," her voice was hard, dangerous. She was winding up for the swing when he stopped. He seemed to shake himself off, then rub at the back of his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," The man shook his head then gave a ruthful grin. "I'm Numair and I was admiring your spell."

Her insides tightened like a fist had squeezed it. She had relaxed slightly, but now she wound right back up, her body flooding with tension. She drew on that tension, flexing her muscles, ready for the release that would likely knock this tall man off his feet, if she were to get him in the stomach.

"I'm going to ask you only once. Get back," she gripped the handle of the shovel harder and stepped protectively over the book as well as the map. Her eyes narrowed on the target. What was that saying? "Keep your eye on the ball."

She saw the light dawn in his eyes. The dark orbs skittered to the shovel held in the swinging position on her shoulder and back to her eyes. He hastily through up his hands and moved to take a step back. "I didn't mean to scare you! Could you put the shovel down please? I… uh… I just… you have a spell cast on you, in the most glorious shade of gold. I was just admiring it is all. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"A spell? Cast on me?" Blaine frowned and stood up a little straighter. He must have taken that as a sign because he took a step forward again. Immediately, she went back into position. "Stay back!"

"Sorry!" he put his hands back up and stepped back. "I was just… trying to figure out what the spell was for. I can't seem to be able to tell. If I hadn't asked, I would have been certain that it was _your _Gift. But your bodyguard told me you didn't have one. So it must be a spell."

He frowned a stepped forward again. She readied the shovel to swing again, but something stopped her. Over his right shoulder she saw a glint, light reflecting off of eyes. She knew those eyes.

"Don't look! Don't look!" She shouted and shut her eyes, turning her head to the side so she wouldn't be sucked into another vision. But as she opened her eyes another pair captured her. Two?

This one's eyes were brown, like dirt. So dark she could practically see the individual clumps of earth…

* * *

Numair was startled by her outburst as she turned head away from him. What was that about? Was she always this strange? Or was it a special show all for him? He saw the spell around her throb then was enchanted, as her green eyes seemed to glow even as they widened to the size of saucers.

Her whole body seemed to convulse with tension before shuddering. Her fingers were twitching but it was her eyes that were captivating. Lights were playing in them, lights that he couldn't help but watch.

* * *

She was standing in a hole, no, she was _laying_ in it. Her head, it hurt, as if she had been hit. She tried to lift her hand to rub at the ache but found her hands didn't respond.

She flinched when she felt rain fall on her. But rain didn't hurt like that. She tried to lift her head, but she couldn't. It didn't respond either. The rain was falling harder now, but as she lay there, she could see it falling. You couldn't really see rainfall. And it didn't fall like this.

Not in spurts and only in just one spot. And it wasn't dark like that. And it didn't weigh down on her limbs, didn't press into her.

It wasn't rain. It was dirt.

She was being buried. Alive.

Blaine tried to open her mouth to scream, but it was filled with dirt, as a shovel full fell on her face. Oh God, please not like this! Not like this!

She tried to twitch her fingers, tried, to get her body to move, but it didn't work. She couldn't regain control. Meanwhile, her shallow grave was slowly filling. She could feel the weight now, really feel it. It was pressing against her chest, making it hard for her lungs to fill with air.

"Please!" she screamed, "please God don't let me die like this!" she pleaded it. She didn't want to die, it was to soon, she hadn't done enough. There were so many things she had left to do, so many people she had left to meet. So many feelings she had left to experience.

"Please!"

Dirt fell, covered her face, filled her mouth. She sucked in air, inhaled dirt. She couldn't breath, couldn't move. Trapped, buried.

Dead.

* * *

"No!" With pure strength of will, Blaine tore her eyes away from the man who was charging at her. Her green eyes focused instead on his chest as he stormed toward her. "Hey batta batta batta!"

As he came into range, Blaine let the tension loose. Her muscles rippled as she twisted her body at the waist, pulling her arms as hard as she could, throwing her paltry weight into it.

The shock of hitting the man solidly in his stomach vibrated through her arms, through her muscles, made them ache. But she wasn't done yet. She could hear Numair grunt in surprise at the fact that he had just witnessed her hitting the hell out of a stranger.

But he came back, getting up and charging at her again. She was ready and waiting. As she narrowed her eyes at the target she spoke like an announcer at the baseball stadium with deep, dark pleasure. "The wind up, the pitch, and the swing! Looks like this one's out of the park folks!"

Before the man could rise, she walked to him, planted her feet on either side of his body, and lifting the shovel over her head, prepared to bring it down on his head.

"What are you do—STOP!"

_Thwack_.

"That didn't sound to good. Johnny's gonna need a trip into the doctor now," she smiled deliciously and did it again. This time, instead of lurching to a stop when the shovel connected with the skull of the man, it passed right through into the dirt. And she was no longer looking into the empty face of the man, but at a pile of dirt.

"Figures he'd disappear right when I was getting to the fun part," she turned, to give a dark smile to Numair but was hit, hard, by a flying body, tackling her to the ground. The second one! How could she have forgotten?

Almost before her body hit the ground, she could feel the man trying to get a grip on her throat. What was it with them and there need to strangle? As her body collided with the ground, she twisted until she was straight under him, then lifted up her knee, digging solidly into his stomach, to push him away. She had to bring the second one up to help, and use her finger nails to dig into the skins of his hands.

When she had pushed him off, not an easy feat, she grabbed the shovel and lifted it in front of her, holding it like a gun, metal part in the air, as the mindless body sprang onto her once more. She felt the jar as the shovel sliced through the body, then all she felt was dirt, falling on her as the body disappeared.

"God, they're like zombies, mindless and stupid," she spat dirt from her mouth as she stood and brushed the dirt off her clothes. Then she walked to her things, bent and lifted them back up. In the lantern light she could see the man—what was his name again? Numair?—staring at her like she was a monster. Derisively she sneered out, "Thanks for the help, by the way. Really appreciate it."

She flicked her hair behind her shoulder as she adjusted the light in her hand and headed for the gates. This was it. This was the beginning. Finally.

Three hours later, with her muscles screaming, her head pounding, and her thoughts swirling with doubts, she hadn't found a single rock, nor had she found a book.

Maybe she was wrong? Maybe this wasn't the right spot? Maybe it really wasn't as easy as she had thought it was?

No! No, she had checked, double-checked, and had gone back and checked again! This was it! This was the spot. It had to be.

But where were the rocks? Why hadn't she found them yet? The man had said she would find them within feet of the surface. Digging might not be her forte but she was sure she was more then a couple feet down. Was she wrong?

"Goddamn it! Gainel! Why would you give me a mission I can't complete?" throwing her shovel at the other end of the impressive hole she sat down in the dirt, crossed her arms over her chest and tried hard not to be angry enough to cry.

"What exactly are you doing digging a whole in the middle of the night?" She startled, looked up and saw Merric bending over her with a look on his face that made her want to strike him.

Sure, he looked smug, but he hadn't been digging in the dirt for three hours. And sure, he was looking at her like she was crazy, but he didn't know about this idiotic mission the God had sent her on. So, by her highly logical reasoning, she had every right to get up and beat the hell out of him. Which she was feeling like doing at that very moment.

"None of your bees wax!" she hissed then wanted to bury her head in her hands. Now she was talking like she really was thirteen. Great, just great! With a snarl at Merric she grabbed the shovel and began digging again.

So what if he was standing there, watching her like she deserved to be in the loony bin? It wasn't like he knew what was going on. He could stand there and stare at her butt all he liked, she wasn't going to stop just for him. The pompous jackass. She'd dig if she darn well wanted too. And when she found those rocks, she would find away around them and keep going until she found what she was looking for.

"You won't find any rocks," Merric told her. She turned around and scowled at him. He had taken a seat at the edge of the hole, watching her leisurely.

"Who said I was looking for rocks, peasant?" she demanded and slung a large shovel-full of dirt in his direction.

"You did. You were talking aloud. And I wasn't watching your butt," he gave her a grin, one she didn't trust.

"Sure, and I'm the Queen of the Nile. What do you want, peasant? You here to bully me some more? You're like that kid off the Simpson's, you know that? Always laughing at other people's problems. You realize you're only covering up for your own inner pain right?"

"Who are the Simpson's?" Merric asked. Blaine stopped, turned with shovel full and stared at him for a good five seconds.

"You have got to be kidding me. What are you doing here Merric?" she was resigned now, to his presence. "If you're here to give me another unnecessary chore, you can shove it where the sun don't shine, cause I ain't doing it."

"Darren's worried about you. He asked me to come out her and order you back inside. Since it seems you're doing hard labor, I think I'll let you stay," he gave her a grin and she flipped him the bird. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as it would have been if he had known what it meant.

"Thanks, Merric. For being so kind," her voice practically dripped with the syrupy cooing. She gave him a steamed look, then shoveled up another inch or so of dirt.

"You're not going to find any rocks, Princess. You might as well quit now," so saying, Merric jumped down into the pit and tried to take the shovel from her. She slapped him with it.

"I'm not looking for rocks. And why, exactly won't I find them?" she demanded, before continuing with her shoveling.

"You won't find them because Master Numair pulled them out of the ground and used them to fortify the walls against attacks. What are you looking for, if you're not looking for rocks?"

"No rocks? The rocks are gone? Well… that just makes it easier," she told herself as she continued to dig. But she was worried now. Had he found the book? He had found it while he was digging up the rocks? And by the title of Master, that meant he was… a mage. He had the Gift. Was he the one who had the Book of Creation?

It was possible she decided, as she flung another load behind her. The men had appeared shortly after he had. He could have been creating them while he claimed he was "admiring her spell". He could have used that as an excuse to memorize her features so the men would know who they were after.

She chewed nervously on her lip, as she dug deeper. She had to believe that it was still down there, buried, waiting for her to find it. She had to believe it otherwise she would be lost.

A sudden thunk had her dropping her shovel, falling to her knees in the dirt, and digging with her hands. It wasn't long before she had dragged out a chest and was beating away at the lock with the shovel.

The lock broke and fell with a thud to the earth. She placed her hands on either side of the lid, and licked her lips.

"This is it," she whispered, looking at the chest. Suddenly, she was scared to open it. Her hands were shaking. The monumental effect opening this chest would have on the world was really starting to hit her.

This book, no matter which of the three it was, was dangerous. Equally as dangerous as any other book. By bringing this book out of its hiding place, by bringing it into the world, she was allowing a great danger to unfold. She would have to guard this book with her life. She would have to have her hands on it at all times. She could never, _ever_, let anyone other then herself and someone she trusted with all her heart and soul touch this book.

With taking this book back into the world, she was accepting the responsibility of world's fate. It was up to her to see that it was never used for evil. The thought made her stop, made her really, _really,_ think about how she felt about this. Was she willing to put her life aside for the sake of her mission? Was she willing to give up everything she was working for in order to keep this book out of the hands of evil? Was she ready to become a superhero of Tortall?

This thought made her laugh a little as she stared at the chest. And essentially that was exactly what she was doing. The definition of a superhero was a figure, especially in a comic strip or cartoon, endowed with superhuman powers and usually portrayed as fighting evil or crime.

So she wasn't in a comic strip, that didn't mean anything. Though, she looked slender, she was strong. But that wasn't what her superhuman strength was. That was over rated and too clichéd. Her strength was in her knowledge. Okay, that sounded clichéd too, but it was better then the over used strength. And she didn't have just any knowledge; she had the knowledge of two worlds.

Her disguise would be the innocent Princess. And really it would work so well. She'd be a figure of the court, as well as a knight, so she'd have excuses to be everywhere and anywhere. Plus, who would ever suspect a feeble, innocent little princess to be the controller of the fate of mankind?

It was the perfect disguise.

And the fight that she had to do against evil was centered on this book. So, by opening the chest, and taking out the book, she was willingly giving herself to superhero-dom.

"Well, Superman, best get it over with," she said, and steadied her shaking hands.

Then had to steady them all over again when thunder rolled over the hills, lightening streaked across the sky, and rain began to pour down, filling her hole with water, turning it into a mud pit.

"Will you hurry up and get out of that pit before you drown?" Merric called, already scrambling out. Blaine didn't move. She had to do this. Open the chest, Blaine. Open the chest!

Scrunching her eyes closed she flipped up the lid and waited for the world to explode, or light to flood her eyes, or… or… or a bang or something monumental to happen that signified the fact that her life was forever changed.

When nothing happened, she peaked through her left eye, then let out a frustrated breath.

"That's it? You're standing here getting soaked to the bone for some creaky old book? Come on!" Merric grabbed Blaine under her arms and lifted her out of the hole as she grabbed the book from the chest and clutched it to her own, then she had to grab the other book, the one with the information on the rest of the books, before Merric hauled her over his shoulder.

Like a cave man, he carried her back into the fort. She let him make it to the courtyard before she started pounding on his back, demanding she be let down. This was frighteningly similar to another situation she could remember. She hoped it didn't have the same end.

"Put me down! Peasant, I'm warning you!" She shouted, and using the corner of the books she still held, dug them sharply into he back. "Put me down or else!"

"Or else what, Princess?" Merric demanded, then slung her forcefully to the ground. He stood over her, hands fisted on his hips, glaring at her. "You'll tell Chris? I'm tired of having him thrown in my face!"

She was speechless, her tongue flopping uselessly in mouth as she tried to fathom words she could say that would express her sudden and explosive rage.

"Thrown in _your_ face?" she stuttered as she tried to get to her feet. As she struggled to rise, Merric kneeled down over her and pushed her back down. "You're the one who keeps bringing it up! I told you to forget about that name!" she shouted.

"It's hard to do that when you keep calling me by it!" Merric was shouting too, and he was angry also. Maybe that's why he didn't notice when she pulled, pulled away from him. "You keep comparing me to him! I can feel it! Do I make the cut, huh Princess? Do I meet your standards? Am I better then him? Huh? Am I?"

"Shut up!" her voice was filled with tears and hatred. How could he know, she asked herself, as she lay there on the muddy ground, rain falling in her face. How could he know how close to the truth he was?

"Why? It's the truth and you know it!" Blaine felt tears, real ones, painful ones, building and tried to force them back with anger. She lifted her fists, wanting to hit Merric, but he grabbed them and pinned them to the ground, pinned her to the ground.

"I hate you!" she screamed in his face, but it didn't work. The anger wasn't working. It was just building more and more. The tears were lodging in her throat, making it so she couldn't breath. Pressure was pushing against her, pushing her down.

"Why? Because I'm not him? Is that it?" Merric hissed, bending close to her face. She was staring into his eyes, into his perfect blue eyes. His red hair was dark, matted to his face by the rain. And when she looked up at him, looked up into his eyes, all she saw was Merric.

"No," she whispered, one tear escaped, disguised and washed away by the rain.

"Then what is it? Why do you hate me?" his voice was resigned, hard. Blaine tried to stop it, tried to hold it in, but it wouldn't be stopped. It wanted out and there was nothing she could do. It escaped. The truth.

"Because… because I want you to be him!" she sobbed, her chest heaving, trying to relieve the pressure of the tears.

"What?" Merric whispered, this time his voice was soft, filled with astonishment.

"I hate you because I want so badly for you to be him! It would be so much easier if you were him!"

"Why? So I would fall neatly into his slot? So everything would be perfect in your life. Do you love him that much!" she only shook her head mutely, shuddering now, with cold. But not from the rain. The cold was inside her. "Who is he Blaine? And what did he do to you?"

But she couldn't answer, she didn't think she had the power in her to express what happened. She had to try though, she realized she had to do that much. "He… he…"

Oh god, the pressure! It was in her lungs, making it so hard to breath. It was in her head, making it so hard to think. It was everywhere, pushing, pressing, and for a moment she felt like she was being buried alive again. This time by her own emotions.

"He what, Blaine?" Merric's voice was so soft, so soothing. And the pressure kept building and building. Until she popped.

"He broke my heart!"

She struggled to lift her hands, to cover her face as she sobbed. She didn't want him to see the tears, the torrent of emotions beating her inside. "I loved him, with everything I had. I would have done anything for him. Anything. Can you understand that?"

She looked into Merric's eyes, and saw that he couldn't. "I would have given my life for his. I would have given my life just to make him smile. He made my world go round, Merric. He was my everything, my light, my dark, my world, my entire existence. And he took that from me!" She shouted the last, then sobbed the next. "He took away my life."

As the rain poured down on her face, she let the tears escape, let the emotions have their way. And finally faced the truth. "I know, in the very depths of my heart, that I could never forgive him for that. I know, as sure as I know the back of my hand, that if he were to stand in front of me today, I would have nothing but hatred for him. And that's why I want you to be him so badly."

"So you can have an excuse to hate me? That's what this is all about?" Merric demanded. And she nearly laughed, would have if she could stop the tears.

"Don't you get it yet, Merric? I want you to be him so I can have an excuse not to love you."

"You love me?" Merric asked, and she saw his eyes warm. And she hated herself. She turned her head to the side. She didn't want to see his eyes when she told him the truth.

"No, Merric. I don't. But I could. And that's what scares me the most. I don't want to put my heart through that. I don't think I even could. Please, let me up. It's cold and I want to go inside," she whispered. The pressure was gone and in its place was a slow dragging sadness, a sadness that chilled her to the bone.

When he didn't move to release her, she looked up into his eyes and she couldn't read them until it was near to too late. They sparked then he dropped his head down.

He's going to kiss me, she thought; felt the butterflies in her stomach that she knew were tale-tell signs. She didn't want those signs. The kiss landed awkwardly on her cheek when she turned her head to the side.

"Merric, don't," she looked back up at him. Pleaded. "Just let me go. Why can't you just let me go?"

He opened his mouth the reply. What it was, she'd never hear.

"Blaine? Blaine! Where are you?" The voice sat between them, creating a gap. And she pushed it wider, so wide they could never cross it. She didn't want them to be able to cross it.

"That's Darren. Get off. _Get off!_" she pushed and this time he got up. She stood, grabbed her books and hurried off, Merric close on her heels.

"Blaine this isn't over!"

"Darren! I'm here!" she was running, whither it was towards Darren or away from Merric, she didn't want to know.

"Blaine! I'm so sorry," Darren called, stepping up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, squeezing. The consolation in his eyes had her insides clenching.

"What is it?" she asked, lifting the books and pressing them hard to her chest until it hurt. But it was a small thing pushing through an existence of cold depression. Hardly noticeable at all.

"A messenger came just a moment ago. Blaine, it's your father. He passed away. I'm so sorry," Darren was watching her. Cry, Blaine, she ordered herself. That's what they would expect. Though her insides were frozen, she did what was expected of her, putting on a good show of weeping. She launched herself into Darren's arms, let him comfort her. But she felt nothing.

As she listened to Merric and Darren talk about plans, how she had to return to Tusaine, how and when she would finish her squire hood, how she would get home, what would change, she though bitterly of how the saying was right.

The truth _does_ hurt.

End Part One

A/N Okay, so this is the end of the first part of the story, obviously. I should have the next chapter up next Monday. Enjoy. And Review!


	16. Ch 15 Four More Years Later

A/N This goes to Crazed Potatoe. I have not failed, I'm just a little late today. And factoring in the horrible weekend I just had, I'm allowed to be a little late. Enjoy and I expect all of you to review! Even you people who read it but don't leave reviews.I know you're there! I know you are! You had better review!

Part Two

Chapter Fifteen: Four More Years Later

Blaine sat on the bench outside the King's chambers and wondered if she'd be able to hold herself together. She could hear murmured voices in the room behind her, but they weren't the voices that she had heard the last time. Instead of two there was now four. It wasn't just the king rambling, he was conversing with the two people who held the most power over her. The two people she had come to hate the most.

When the pain in her stomach continued at the faint sound of his voice, she forced the cold inside her to freeze it, to numb it. She had gotten used to this coldness, it hadn't left her for years. And with the familiarity she had been able to use it to her advantage.

Staring down at her feet she felt the tears of nostalgia well in her eyes. Her feet touched now, they touched the ground easily. Unlike four years ago she was now tall. And willowy. Her long torso had become slender, and curvy. Her hips, her chest, it was all that a man could fantasize. It was the body that had earned her the leading roles and the hearts of countless men. And now it was her most valuable weapon. Unlike four years ago, she was now able to use her knowledge as a woman.

And unlike four years ago, as she sat on this bench awaiting words from the king, she was alone.

She looked to her left where Darren had sat so many times and felt her heart squeeze. She could see him, his smiling face as he had sat there, just there, so close to her. And now so far away. Possibly gone from her forever.

I can't do this, she thought, feeling the tears in her throat. It's too hard. Sitting there, where they had sat before, but now alone. So alone…

"You've only yourself to blame for that, Blaine, so suck it up," she whispered under her breath as she braced her hands on the edge of the bench and stretched her back. To punish herself, and prove she could handle it, she made herself think back to that horrible day. The first of a never-ending cycle of horrible days. Today was just a variation of the monotony.

* * *

Blaine stepped quietly into her bedroom, feeling the sting from the slap still echoing across her cheek. She knew it would bruise. When they came from _him_ they always bruised.

And that was why she had to do this. Not to mention the fact _he_ had threatened her with worse if she didn't.

Turning her back to the room, she quietly closed the bedroom door, hearing it's soft click. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and did what she had to do. This was for the best.

Slip into the role, Blaine. You can do it, she told herself, making her face a cool mask of indifference. Turning, she strolled into the room then came to a sudden halt when she saw Darren.

Tears were swallowed, a throat was cleared, then Darren turned from the window he had been looking out of and smiled. Such a bright, beautiful smile. Memorize it now, Blaine, it'll be gone all too soon.

"Darren, please, have a seat," Blaine made herself indifferent. Think of it as a job interview, she told herself.

"Alright, Blaine what's going on? Are you feeling well?" Darren asked, coming towards her to feel her cheek for a fever. She jerked back as if his touch would burn. That was his first sign something was truly wrong. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he took a seat in the chair across from her.

"I'm sorry to inform you—"

"What's this tone? Blaine, what's going on?" She plowed ahead as if she hadn't been interrupted. If she stopped now, she knew she would never be able to get it all out.

"—but I no longer have need of your services."

Blaine didn't look at Darren as the silence stretched across the room. She couldn't look. It would break her heart even more if she looked. This way she had a chance of saving at least some of it.

"W-what?" The sound of his voice was shocking, sending acid through her stomach. Push through this Blaine. Push through. You're strong, you know you are! You can do this, you don't have a choice. And neither does he.

"You can pack your things now, or later. But you need to have left the castle by tomorrow morning."

"What are you saying? Blaine how can you do this to me? We've been together for over five years! And now you're just sending me off. Answer me!" when she didn't say anything her grabbed her arms, lifted her out of her seat and shook her. "Look at me!"

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face. But her eyes were masked. She knew they were. She was damn good actress and today she hated herself for it. Darren would look into her eyes, and he would see exactly what she made him see. He would see a world without any love for him. "Please take your hands off me before I have to call the guards."

"Guards? I am your guard! I've saved your life more times then either one of us can count. I've raised you, I've taught you, I've _loved _you! And this is how you repay me?"

"I never asked you to do any of those things, Darren. My father did. And now that he's gone, I…" she swallowed hastily, and wrapped herself in the cold seeping through her bones. She had to do this, she scolded herself and forced out the words. "I have no reason to keep you."

"How can you do this? I thought we were close? I thought we loved each other! I thought… I thought we were like family," his voice was pleading. Inside Blaine dropped her head and wept as a part of her heart broke off and disappeared. But on the outside, she simply narrowed her eyes.

"You thought wrong. Now please leave."

"Blaine where am I supposed to go? You're my only family, my only home! Where do I go now?"

"I don't care! Go to your parents, go to Tortall, go to Merric for all I care. Just go!" she yelled, stood and pointed her finger at the door. She didn't watch as he left. She couldn't.

"I don't know what's wrong, what he said to you, but I know this isn't what you want. How can you just tell me to leave? How can I protect you from him if I'm not here?"

"You'll do me a lot better away from here. Now go. Before I call the guards and have them arrest you for treason," she heard his footsteps as he crossed the room, heard him stop before the door. She could feel his eyes on her, and for that she didn't look. Couldn't.

"I want you to know, Blaine, that no matter what, I'll always love you. Come find me when you realize that," then he was gone.

When she heard the door slam closed behind her, she dropped to the chair, put her head in her hands and wept.

* * *

"My lord, I don't think that's a good idea at all," the king said in a firm, hard voice, and Blaine looked up from where she had been staring at the ground, wiped at the tears that had gathered at the corner of her eyes. Used the cold to freeze them away.

It had been for the best, of course. She had been saving Darren by sending him away. She gave hint of a smile at that thought. Didn't that sound like something you'd read in a book or see in a drama movie? But it was the truth. Once her brother had taken the throne, things at the palace had changed, drastically. She had known almost before it began that Darren would never fit into the change.

He had the strongest sense of justice she had ever met in a person before. And he also had pride and courage. And she had known that he would do what he felt was right in the new world over there. And she had known they would have killed him.

So, after all the times he had saved her, or helped her, or simply loved her, she had returned the favor. She had given him a life. A better one then she would ever have.

"Your majesty, I don't see why we can't come to an agreement on this. Is it so unreasonable a request?" Blaine shuddered at the sound of his voice, felt it crawl down her spine like a poisonous spider and pushed off the bench.

She didn't need to sit there to remember Darren, or to feel the loss in her heart. He was long gone now, the best friend she had ever had, the brother she had always wanted, and the purest of hearts she had ever had the grace of residing in.

And she had pushed him away.

With a sigh, Blaine turned a corner and started walking, her golden head bent to watch her feet as she walked, thinking. It had been tough at first, living without Darren by her side. So many times in those first few weeks she had turned to him with something she wanted help with, or just something funny she wanted to tell him, only to find he was not there.

But in a way, it had been very good for her too. Back on Earth, she had been independent nearly all her life. Her mother was well… not really a mother, and she had learned to be capable of living on her own, essentially.

In coming to Tusaine she had gone soft because Darren had always been there for her. She had learned to rely on him, for everything. He had been the rock she stood on for everything. And when he had been taken from her, she had had to relearn to be independent.

And now she was. Which definitely came in handy when working on saving the fate of the world. Not that she had been able to do much besides sit and watch. Now that the book was out of her hands again, there wasn't much she _could_ do. But she'd have the book soon. She thought back on the day after she had let it go. It had been in her possession for such a short short time…

* * *

Blaine clutched the bag holding one of the Books of Three and the key to finding the rest to her chest as Darren loaded up the packhorse with her extra trunks. She stared blankly at him, her stomach clutching convulsively as she thought of what she had to do.

She hadn't slept a wink the night before; she had sat up thinking, thinking a lot. And by morning she had been cursing her father for dieing when he had. Didn't the man have any sense of decency? Didn't he know the monumental task she was being put through? Having him die like that had changed everything.

And now she was being forced back into the arms of her enemy for certain. She couldn't take the books with her. That was simply not an option. At this stage, she knew that the man wouldn't hesitate to kill her, and if he was to find the books with her, that would be the end. She couldn't let it end.

So no, there was no way she could take the books with her.

But she couldn't just stash them anywhere either. Who know who would find those books? She certainly wouldn't know. Because she wouldn't be there to constantly watch the hiding spot, anyone could take it. Then where would she be? Sure, it was one step up from out rightly handing it to the man who wanted them. But just a little step.

So there was only one option. She had to leave it with someone. Someone she could trust. Someone who wouldn't look at it.

Someone she was certain to see again.

And that someone had just walked out the door looking grumpy from his lacking sleep hours. She scowled at him. That's what he got for dragging her out in the rain and holding her there late at night. He deserved to be just as tired as she was.

When his eyes met hers she felt her heart quiver and she turned away sharply, hugging the sack to her chest. Her body trembled. Stop it, she shouted in her head and forced her body to be still.

"Are you all right?" Merric whispered into her ear as he came up behind her, his hands caressing her shoulders. She shuddered as his breath blew across her neck. Wrenching from his grasp, she turned and glared at him.

"Watch the hands peasant," she snarled, the squeaked when he stepped to her and touched her face, his thumb running over the black smudges under her eyes.

"Didn't you sleep well?" Merric murmured and looked into her eyes, a deep, soulful look. She had to make him stop. If he kept on like this, who knew what would happen to her poor heart?

"My father just died," she said in her darkest of voices, her eyes pinning him down. "Of course I didn't sleep well. Now watch your hands before I have them chopped off."

She turned away and walked to her horse, putting her foot in the stirrup to push herself in the saddle. Before she could, however, Merric picked her up, his hands circling her waist almost pathetically easily, and placed her there himself. She had to put an end to this now.

"Stop treating me like I'm made out of glass, Merric. I'm not going to break at any second. I'm stronger then that." She glared.

"But not strong enough to love me?" Merric whispered and smiled brightly up at her. She seethed.

"Just because I told you what happened doesn't mean you have any right to say things like that to me Merric. It was moment of weakness and I should never have said anything like that to you. So just forget what I said. It'll be better for both of us."

"Why? Because you don't want things to change between us?" his voice had gone hard again. Blaine tried to stare off, ignoring him. But when he squeezed her thigh rather hard, she looked down at him.

"Things are going to change regardless of what I said last night. Don't you get it, Merric? My father is dead. My fate lies solely in the hands of my brother. And since you don't know him, I'll give you a briefing.

"My brother is a hard, twisted little man. He has always resented the fact that he was born first and therefore not the star of the family. He wasn't the one born into the prophecy, and since the day he knew of it he coveted it. So when I was born, obviously there was some tension between us. I was always the favorite with my father before he got sick. Just as Terry, my brother, was the favorite of my mother. However, she twisted his mind, made him power hungry. And now that he is king and has all the power, do you realize what he will do, Merric? He'll make my life living hell because of the fact that I am the second child, and therefore the one with the prophecy. Which is why I must give you this."

Quietly, smoothing a hand over the treasured books, she handed Merric the bag. And with it she handed him the greatest gift he could ever receive. She handed him her trust.

"What—"

"These are the two most precious possessions I have, Merric. If I were to lose them, or have them taken from me… unimaginable things would happen. Terrible things. So I'm giving them to you, for safekeeping. Until I return to finish my squire training."

"Blaine I can't—"

"Take them Merric. And guard them with your life. Or I'll kill you. Do you understand?" she looked down at him and watched him nod. "One more thing. No matter what, you must not read them. Promise me, here and now that you won't read either one. Promise that you will never take them out of that bag."

"I promise," Merric whispered, and he had a look of awe on his face. Obviously he realized the magnitude of this. Or thought he did. He saw it as being given the gift of guarding a princess's possessions. He had no idea that inside that bag was the fate of his world. Of all the worlds.

"I need to hear the words, Merric. I need to hear them."

"I promise on my honor as a knight to never read the books. I promise on my honor as a knight to never take them out of the bag."

"Good. Goodbye, Merric. I'm trusting this with you." As she road away, she had caught the slightest flicker of love enter his eyes.

* * *

Now she hoped that her trust hadn't been misguided. She shoved the thoughts away, however. Because when she thought about that day worry clouded her brain. What would she do if those books were gone? No, don't think about it. But what would she do?

"Blaine?" the voice surprised her and she looked up to see the face that had just been very clear in her thoughts.

"Merric!" she shouted and despite herself, she ran to him, threw herself into his arms, and held on. God, it was so good to see someone, someone she knew, someone she marginally liked.

Someone who didn't have plots against her.

As his arms came around her, she felt utter joy spread through her body, and for the first time in a long time, the anxiety in her melted away. Finally, she was safe. The warmth of his body penetrated the cold that had seemed to surround her all the time. She felt it melting away too, and smiled.

Pulling back in his arms, she looked up at his face. He had changed. His face was more mature, with creases that spoke of hard work and good times. His eyes, so blue before, were now even more so, striking and vibrant in his healthy face. She smiled at him. He had aged well, and would continue to do so, she knew.

"It's so good to see you! Please, tell me we have a mission, a place to go. Somewhere, away from here!" she leaned forward and hugged him again, then pulled back and smiled even wider. And now it was safe to be away from her family.

Before she hadn't even dreamt of it. She knew now who had the Book of Creation, and she had stuck close to him, to be ready incase he found the second book, in case he made a move. Waiting the time she could take a chance and steal the book.

But now Merric was here. And if he had the book she had dug up, she didn't have to watch that man anymore. Because if she had one, then he didn't have all three. The world would be… well… marginally safe. And she could formulate a well thought out plan. This day was getting better and better.

"Why do you want to get away so badly? You've just arrived," Merric asked. Something in his tone was trying to tip her off. But she only smiled wider. If only he knew. But those thoughts were for another time. Now was for being happy to see Merric again. Really, she hadn't thought it was possible, but she had missed him while she had been away. Terribly so.

He had become an important figure in her year in Tortall. And after losing both Darren and Merric, it had been easy to allow herself to want his company.

"I'm just excited to get along with my squire training. It's been so long, you know. And I've missed you. So do you have a mission? One that will take us away from here? Far away?" She grabbed his hands and held them as she smiled at him. But he wasn't smiling back.

Something was wrong. She could feel it, thrumming along her nerves. But it had been so long—so long—since she had had someone, she wouldn't let her own insecurities ruin this moment. She wouldn't ruin it! Everyone had abandoned her, or she had abandoned them. Either way, she had been so alone, so alone. Even Gainel had—

"No, that's not the reason. That's not it at all. You haven't missed me at all, have you? No, I can see it in your eyes." Blaine felt herself blink, felt the world start to tip, just the slightest. "You only want to use me. Use me to get away from your betrothed. Well I have good news for you," he dislodged his hands from hers and she felt the cold begin to creep back in, up her spine and into her bones. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to welcome her back, take her away on a mission so she could plan. He wasn't supposed to know about _him_.

"What good news?" she asked, but suddenly she didn't want to hear. Something was wrong, something was going very very wrong.

"I don't have a mission for you. In fact, I don't have anything for you at all. So scurry back to your master, what was his name? Ah yes, I remember," his voice was coming from far away, very far away. She could hardly see him, as her vision took on that of a tunnel stretching miles long. "Lord Rhys."

Her breath whooshed out and she sucked it back in just as fast, putting her hands over her belly as it churned, as she stumbled back one step, two, shivering as the cold came back with a vengeance, like an icy winter wind in the dead of night.

She was always so cold.

"What, did you think I didn't know, Princess?" Merric hissed, his voice had gone so hard, so ruthless. She wanted to cover her eyes and hide. Wanted to find an escape, a place to be, to just _exist _without all of this... this pain... this cold... this uncertainty... and this unquestionable certainty that nothing would ever be the same.

She wanted to go home. To Earth.

"Stop it," she whispered as he took a step towards her, to her thoughts or his words she didn't know.

"Did you think I didn't know about your sudden and forceful betrothal?" She didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about the hell she had been forced through. What did he know? What did he know about her or about _him _or about anything that had been happening in her life? He hadn't been there! He didn't know.

"Stop it!" she said it louder, watched him step even closer.

"Think I didn't know about the fact that you seem to hate him so? Think I didn't know that you were going to use me to get away from him? Think again. I know you to well, Princess. And not the person you pretend to be. I know you!"

Like hell she thought, as her eyes hardened, filled with iced flames.

"You won't use me like that. And you won't ruin your life by angering your brother like this. The king is a powerful man, like you once told me. He won't tolerate you screwing up your life just because you're angry about a necessary betrothal. So thank me, because I've just saved you."

"Saved me?" she hissed as her back snapped straight and the ice fueled the flames. She'd be damned if she let him see the pain his words were causing her. With brutal finality she pulled a mask across her face and hissed, "You've just killed me."


	17. Ch 16 Lord Rhys

A/N This chapter is once again dedicated to Crazed Potatoe whoI recomend reads Ch. 2 for the answer to her question. It stems off of that. Also! Thank you thank you thank you to all my reviewers! All three of you that is. You're amazing and I love you! lol. Now! To the rest of you cheaters who read but don't review, I'm starting to get very very angry and am even thinking of not updating for a looooong time. So give me the reviews I want. They don't have to be good reviews, or even long reviews! They can even be just one word! Just do it! It takes less then a minute of your time. Okay... done with my rant. Enjoy please!

Chapter Sixteen: Lord Rhys

Merric stared at her, unbelieving. She could see it in his eyes, see the fact that he didn't believe her and she wanted to laugh, or cry. Or both. It seemed she was still alone. She had thought, and hoped, that when she returned to Tortall, she would finally have someone to help her. Someone who would have her back in a time of need. Someone she could trust wouldn't kill her when she turned away.

The thought, just the thought, of having someone there had pulled her through so many hard times. She had relied on the fact that soon she would have someone else. And now it seemed she still had no one. She had reached out, given her trust, and had been shot down. She had hoped, she had dreamed.

And she had been wrong. Merric had betrayed her. And it was like history repeated itself. She had trusted Chris with her love and he had taken it and broken her heart. And now she had trusted Merric to welcome her, to help her, and he had pushed her back into the arms of danger.

Would she never learn?

Suddenly she gasped. Her vision grayed as the world tipped under her feet. God, what had she been thinking? How could she have been so stupid? Her breathing was rapidly increasing as she stepped forward dizzily and grabbed Merric's shoulders. He tried to shake her off, but she clung like a bur as she struggled to speak, her eyes wild with a sudden madness.

"My books. Give me my books!" she shouted and clutched at him, looking up into his eyes so blue now filled with disgust. Where had it come from, and why? No, it didn't matter. The mission came before personal feelings. Once she had those books back in her hands she could worry about Merric and the disgust in his eyes.

"I don't have them anymore."

She thought she heard a scream, maybe it was her own. But she stumbled back as if his skin burned her. Her breath was wheezing through her lungs as she bent over at the waist. She gagged, twice, as her head began to pound and her stomach shrunk into a tight knot of tension and failure. Then her knees gave and she collapsed on the floor, hands splayed in front of her, barely holding her up as they trembled in time with her racing pulse. She thought vaguely, perhaps she was dieing.

"W-what?" she whispered, her voice a tortured cry as it rent the air. She threw her head back to look up at Merric. How could she have been so stupid as to trust him again? She had thought they were different, Merric and Chris. But they were the same. They were both the same.

"I said I don't have them." He repeated, his voice hard. She jerked at every word, her body shaking uncontrollably with the cold that froze her insides. It was like she was standing in Antarctica stark naked. She was sure she would die from the cold. She could feel herself shivering with it, felt her lips slowly turn blue, as all heat seemed to leach from her body.

"Where are they?" she whispered. Get a grip, Blaine! She forced herself to stand, forced her legs to hold her, though they trembled so. If he had given the books to someone else, she would just go find them. This wasn't the end. This was just a hurdle. She could get around it. She wrapped her arms around her elbows, hugging herself for warmth as she prepared to jump this barrier.

"I don't know. I gave them away some time ago. They could be anywhere by now." Or maybe she couldn't. She gasped and pressed a fisted hand to the balled up mass of emotion that was her stomach. Everything was just so cold. Even her anger.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you have done?" her voice was dead flat now, her emotions to great to even come out through her voice. Butturning to himshe beather fists on his chest as her eyes glazed bright. "Do you have any idea what was in those books?"

"I just assumed they were journals. And since they were yours, they no longer held any value to me, and neither did their safe-keeping." He watched as she turned away and began spitting out words he couldn't understand, watched as her entire body shuddered as if touched by a chill wind. Maybe she was angry, but he was more so. To think, this whole time, she had been nothing but a façade. "You're not who I thought you were, princess."

"Of course not! That was the whole point! Do you realize what you have done? You gave away the most important books on this entire planet!"

"Were your journals really that important? Don't you think that's a little self-centered?" Merric asked and narrowed his eyes at her. Gods, he hated her.

"They weren't journals you little prick! They were spell—" she stopped. Calm down, don't give too much away, where are you characters now? Why can't you find a role, slip into it and use it as a defense? Get your control back. And get it back now. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and centered herself.

"Blaine, darling? Where are you?" Her eyes flew open, and she couldn't stop that spark of fear that ignited in her eyes, turned them a bright grass green. She stared at Merric as the footsteps came slowly down the hall, flinched at each one.

"Ah, there you are darling. I wondered where you had run off to," Blaine turned and forced herself into the role she had created. Merric watched, fascinated, as the bright green eyes cooled to a smoky tint, her eyelids lowered to half-mast, and her full rosy lips fell into an insolent pout. But he had seen that sudden fear, and he wondered at it.

"I didn't run anywhere, Darling," Blaine drawled mockingly, folding her arms sassily over her chest and cocking her hip. And forced back a shudder as she looked up into _his_ face. Lord Rhys. Her fiancé.

She could still remember the first time she had seen him. He had stepped out from the shadows, his dark gray eyes hooded, his black hair falling across a pale forehead and into his gray eyes. And she had thought Numair had made an intimidating figure. Weak sauce compared to the absolute evil that exuded from this man's every pore.

She had stopped, and she had stared. And she had known without a doubt this was the man that had tried to kill her, for she had seen him staring out through Merric's eyes twice before.

And she could see the book clutched in his hand.

Immediately her plan had formed and she had forced herself into the role of the reluctant, and unknowing of any danger, betrothed princess, who came fully charged with a sassy attitude that had landed her more then her fair share of bruises.

Even now she was sporting a fading string of bruises across her abdomen and upper arms. But the bruises, the scratches, the occasional broken bones, they meant nothing, nothing, to her. Because the mission came first, always first. Even before physical pain.

"I believe you know exactly what I meant by that," Lord Rhys hissed. He hated it most when she was insolent and smart-mouthed around him. And her character simply couldn't resist doing just that. In many ways, this character was similar to the one she had used on Merric. Except with much more painful means of punishments for her smart remarks.

"I can't always be looking into the meaning of your sayings, Lord Rhys. Why don't you just spit out what you mean and stop all the fancy shmancy crap?" she imagined herself smacking on gum, maybe blowing a bubble here and there. It helped, she knew, to curb the fear if she occupied her mind with other things. Just because the mission came first didn't mean she couldn't still _feel_. She simply couldn't allow those feelings to rule her.

"Why don't we take a walk?" she inwardly cringed at the words. She knew those words so well, and the true meaning behind them. After all, hadn't she heard it too many times to count? Sure, the package changed shape ("Would you accompany me to the library to help me pick out a book?" and "There's a new horse in the stables, why don't we go see it" and her favorite of course, "I bought you a gift, Dear, why don't we go to your room so you can open it?") but the message behind it never did. It seemed Lord Rhys wasn't being tolerant today and he didn't want to be pushed. Too bad.

"I'd rather not, actually. I've already had my walk, now I'd like to go unpack my things. If you'll excuse me," she gave a brief nod and tried to turn away.

Quick as a flash Lord Rhys's hand shot out and gripped her upper arm tight, hard enough to bruise flesh. Again. "I believe I said we would take a walk." He tugged and she followed, lifting her arm awkwardly, trying to ease the pain. It did nothing.

As she walked, however, she shot a look behind her and saw Merric watching them, puzzled, almost as if he realized Rhys was hurting her, but couldn't figure out why he should bring himself to care.

Then they turned a corner and he was gone from her vision. Lord Rhys gripped tighter, pulled harder until he was practically dragging her.

They were headed for the garden. At least she would have a good view. This time.

* * *

Blaine looked into the mirror that hung over her desk in the room she had occupied her first year of squire training, checking her makeup. The bruises wouldn't start to appear for almost two hours. She had iced them down after a short trip to the kitchens, so she was safe to venture out into the mess hall for dinner. If she could sneak past Lord Rhys and her brother.

Hearing them moving around in the sitting room, she decided not to chance it, and pulling up her skirt to give her feet room, she slipped out her window. When her feet touched the stones of the courtyard outside, she quietly closed her window back up and sighed.

So much for her welcome back, she thought as she stepped briskly through the chilling air (was it her or had the autumn wind started up a bit early this year?) into the pages wing. From there, she walked down the long hall towards the mess hall, rubbing up and down her arms as the frosty feeling moved all along her skin.

She hadn't been this depressed in the longest of time, she thought. Or more likely, she hadn't felt even the slightest of happiness in so long, that after having it viciously yanked away from her, the depression felt more arctic then ever.

Merric certainly hadn't been happy to see her, and now she wondered, truly wondered, why. Before she hadn't had the chance. She had been to upset about losing the books. And she had been putting the mission first, as she had trained herself to do. But now she wondered what had happened to change his mind.

Last she remembered, he had been doing his best to smooth talk her. Maybe he was upset about the betrothal? Or the fact that she had been away for so long. But truth be told, if the fate of the religion of her country hadn't been resting on her success as a squire, she wouldn't have come back at all. Lord Rhys wouldn't have let her.

She sighed again and shrugged, pushing open the door to the mess hall and striding over to the service window. It didn't matter anymore. She had no reason to speak to him again. He didn't have the books, he had no clue where they were, and he obviously didn't want to speak to her again. So it was best if she just left him alone.

Turning away she looked into the crowd and nearly smiled when she saw familiar faces. One in particular. Walking quickly she made the way to the table, forcing a serene smile to grace her beautiful, camera captivating face.

"Hello, Sir Nealan," she whispered quietly as she set her tray beside him and took her seat. He turned at the sound of his voice. She saw the shock and the pleasure in his eyes when he saw her. For a moment she thought she would have someone at last.

But she saw him glance across from him then back at her. This time all she saw in his eyes was sorrow. Her smile never faltered even as she felt her insides crack and break like borken ice. Nope, not here. There truly was no one for her here.

She glanced across too and saw Merric. Oh, she thought, her own inner hopes drowning further. So Merric had poisoned him too. Well, no big deal, she thought, staring down at her tray and playing absently with the food. It wasn't like she had really liked him. He had just been a good friend, a better healer. And another source of seemingly crunched hope.

"Er… Princess Blaine!" she heard the false cheer in his voice and wanted to weep. Instead she made her features harden. How awkward. "It's… ah… good to see you."

"As it's good to see you. Will you excuse me? I've seemed to have forgotten something," giving Merric an evil glare without removing the polite smile from her face she stood, grabbed her tray, and turned.

Then dropped it just as fast.

Oh God, the first wave of pain tore through her chest like a bullet to the heart as she saw Darren standing a few feet away, deer in the headlights look splashed across his face. Her breath hitched as she saw him for the first time in so long, her last salvation.

He wasn't gone. He hadn't abandoned her. He was here! With a cry she broke into a run, launched herself against him. And feared he hated her, just like everyone else seemed too. As her feet left the ground she had the terrifying thought he would step to the side and let her fall. Fall so much farther then the floor, fall into that black abbess of despair that yawned wide and bottomless at her feet.

But he caught her and after a moment's stiffness, he returned her hug, almost hesitantly, like he didn't want to, wanted to push her away. Then he crushed her close, burying his head in her neck. She felt his warmth and all the ice left as she hung off his chest.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried out, then began to sob. She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her head in his chest, and wept.

* * *

Darren shifted his grip on Blaine as he felt the first sob tear her throat, the first tears soak his chest. He wrapped on arm around her waist, his other hand pressing against the back of her head. Outwardly he was strong, his body honed to perfection for the purpose of his lively hood. A man didn't save lives with fat and weakness in his flesh and blood. Inwardly, however, he trembled.

He could feel Blaine's sobs, could feel the way she hung limp, felt the defeat that surrounded her. He had thought before so many times, that he had seen Blaine at her weakest, but today it all paled in comparison. In all the years that he had known her, the Princess had used tears. To get what she wanted, to get what other people wanted, to fit an image. But the tears had always been for some sort of gain.

Not these. No, not these. These tears were real. They weren't a ploy to get something, they weren't to create a show for the people around them. And they weren't a trick to get him to forgive her. No… these were dark, deep tears, from the soul. And they were meant to be private. He knew Blaine well enough, that if she had the motive to say so, past the sobs, she would ask for her privacy. So he'd give it to her.

As he murmured comforting words to Blaine, he gave Merric a dark look from where he stood. He knew that the knight was mostly to blame for this emotional burst. Had to be. He couldn't allow something else, something he couldn't control, be the cause of this. So it had to be him.

Since Merric had gotten wind that Blaine was returning, he had done nothing but rant about the injustice she had placed upon Darren. That must be the reasoning he used for his hurt feelings. But unlike Merric, Darren had used logic. And his logic had brought him to the same conclusion time after time, year after year. Blaine hadn't sent him away because she didn't love him any more, or because she didn't need him. She had done it because of something else. Something important. And it was a decision that he had come to respect.

Even though it had angered him so to have her push him away, he had respected her decision. And now it seemed he would finally find out what had caused it. Once he had dealt with the current situation.

"Shhh… Princess, it's all right. Let's go to your rooms and have a talk," Darren whispered, and started to walk, leaving the crowded mess hall and the prying eyes. He was surprised when Blaine reared back in his arms, her face wild.

"No!" the shout was loud, too loud. She took a deep breath, calmed and continued."He's there. We… we can't. Let's… let's go to your rooms. Please, let's go to yours," he could see the tears filling her eyes, heard her chocking out the words over her heaving breaths. This was obviously the center of it.

"Alright, we'll go to mine. Don't you worry, just hold on to me, okay?" she nodded and held tighter, burying her head in his chest, breathing in his scent. God she had missed him. What had ever possessed her to push him away? Oh right…

Lord Rhys.

"Shh… Princess, don't cry anymore. It'll be okay. I'm here now, aren't I?" he rubbed his hand down her back, kissed her head and Blaine felt, finally, like she was home.

"So, just like that you're going to take her back? Pretend like she did nothing to you?" Blaine looked up over Darren's shoulder as he stopped walking and looked at Merric. Felt the ice trying to fight it's way back into her heart, that slow, creeping existence that encompassed everything.

Slowly she slid down Darren's body until her feet touched the floor and she could stand on her own. She was so used to standing on her own. But then Darren grabbed her hand, squeezed, and stepped in front of her. And the warmth came rushing back.

"I told you when I first arrived that when Blaine returned I, and only I, would handle it. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a Princess to see too," Darren squeezed her hand and pulled as he dragged her along the hall to his room.

But already she was forming a plan on what she would say to him, and what she wouldn't. There wasn't much she _could _say. Though four years had spanned the time she had last seen him, her predicament was still the same. Darren hadn't changed, she could see that. And he still felt the same way about her as before, if that had been any indication.

So she was still in a terrible fix. If she told Darren any of what had happened while they had been apart, he would still react the same as if he had been there the whole time. He would still try and hurt Lord Rhys and he would still be hanged. It seemed nothing had really changed.

"Come, sit," Darren ushered her into his chambers and she saw right away that he had been living there for quite some time. The room held traces of Darren all over it. The way all his weapons were arranged neatly on the wrack above his organized and tidy dresser. The way he had made the bed with the top blanket pulled down, but the sheets still tucked in at the top, the way the pillows were arranged. The stack of cloths folded on top of the chest at the foot of bed. Even his scent was in the air.

Yes, she could feel Darren here, and she immediately loved the room, never wanted to never leave it, ever, and at the same time knew that wasn't possible. Merric had ruined everything for her. Sure, things hadn't exactly been perfect before, but at least then she had still had the hope that she had a little bit of say in the fate of the world, what with the third book in good hands. But now it seemed that wasn't true.

She would have to go back to Lord Rhys. Now she had to watch him again, constantly. She had to steal the other books, make it look like it was some one else. Yes, that would be her first plan of action. She'd find a way to steal the books from Lord Rhys. And this time she wouldn't give them away, not to anyone, not for anything. She'd hold on to them for dear life.

"Blaine?" Darren waved a hand in front of her face and she blinked, noticing she had taken a seat on the bed. He was standing beside her, frowning at her. He hadn't changed a single bit, she thought, seeing the concern in his eyes. And it was comforting to know that she was still in his heart, that he wasn't lost from her forever.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. What are you doing back here at the palace?" she asked, smiling up at him, her lips smooth like cream.

"After… you know… I didn't have anywhere to go. But I remembered you telling me to go to Merric. And he was all that I could think of. So I came back, and he hired me as his bodyguard. Worked out well, didn't it?" Blaine never had a chance to answer.

"I'm beginning to rethink my offer of letting you work for me after the way you behaved today," Merric was there, leaning on the door that opened up into what she assumed was his chambers. Behind him she could see a girl… that looked familiar.

No, it wasn't the girl that she remembered so much as the mulish expression on her face. She could never forget that expression. It was Claire. She sure had changed a lot over the years. Older now, taller, but she still had that air of naivety around her, and the childish set to her mouth. Poor girl, Blaine thought with an inner frown.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Darren asked. Blaine recognized the tone and sighed. This could get ugly.

"It means that after what she did to you, you have no obligation to see to the Princess now. Send her back to her betrothed. That's what I did," Merric gave a smirk and Blaine practically felt the waves of anger roll off Darren. Oh yeah, definitely getting ugly.

"You sent her back to that monster? Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? What are you, Merric? Stupid or something?" Darren stood and she could see the protective stance he took. And she could have stepped in, could have stopped it. But frankly? He had given her books away and she didn't really give a damn about Merric at the moment.

"You're the stupid one, Darren, taking her back like that after they way she just cast you off. Don't you care at all about how you appear to other people? Don't you care at all about the fact that she has you wrapped around her little finger, has you at her beck and call? Don't you want to know why she brushed you off?"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll watch your words," Darren's hand started to reach for his sword and Blaine stood hurriedly. Maybe she should interfere. After all she had pushed him away to save his life. To have him kill Merric then be killed himself would defeat the point.

"You're right!" Blaine shouted and stepped in front of Darren instinctively. She saw the curious look Merric was giving her so to cover up the move she turned and put her hands on Darren's chest, smoothed. "I do owe you an explanation, Darren. I do."

"He doesn't need to hear. If you'll excuse us," Darren moved to shut the adjoining door. But Merric had a hard look on his face and with all the testosterone zooming through the air she was deathly afraid of a fight over the door. So she grabbed Darren's arm to stop him.

"He can hear, Darren. It doesn't matter to me," she gave Darren a reassuring smile then grabbed his arm and led him to the bed, sat then had him sit beside her. She grabbed his hand, put it in her lap with her own two and squeezed.

"The truth is I didn't brush you off, Darren. You know I couldn't! You know I could never do that to you! You're like my brother," she could feel the tears clogging her throat and decided to let them sweep gently down her face. It wouldn't hurt the theatrics any. But she heard Merric give a nasty snort.

Let him believe it or not, it was up to him. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't matter anymore. He had lost the books so now he held absolutely no value to her at all. A little voice in her head told her she was lying to herself, but Blaine drowned it out with the sound of her own voice.

"The truth is, Darren, Lord Rhys felt that… that we were too close," she blinked and looked down at her hands. They were so small, holding his one large hand. So small. So delicate. So deceiving. She was bag of lies and like a spider she spun them into a tangled web that entrapped everyone around her.

"So you're blaming this on your betrothed? Why do I feel as if I should have expected this?" Merric snorted again, and shook his head. "You can waste your life as much as you want on her, Darren, but I won't. I'm through with her, and I encourage you to be so also. But it's up to you. Just don't let it effect your duties."

With that, Merric turned and went into his room. Blaine could see Claire smiling viciously over his shoulder. Then the door closed and Blaine was once again left alone in the room with Darren.

He was the first to speak after a long period of silence. "Is that the real reason Blaine? Is that the real reason why you made me leave?"

Blaine looked up into his eyes and found she couldn't lie to him again. Not here, alone with no one watching, no one there to know the truth. She just couldn't do it.

"No, Darren, it's not. But—" she held up her hand when he tried to interrupt. "But I can't tell you the truth, Darren. I can't. Now I best go. They'll be looking for me."

"Stay!" Darren grabbed her hand as she stood to leave. She felt more tears threaten as she slowly dislodged her hand from his.

"I can't, Darren. You know I can't. I can't afford to make him angry. So I'll go back to my room." She started for the door but Darren grabbed her hand again.

"Why do you go back to him Blaine? I'm here now, I can protect you. You don't have to go back to him, ever again!" Darren's eyes were bright, almost feverish. She gently disengaged her hand from his again and stepped to the door, opened it.

"Thanks to your genius boss, now I do," she saw that he was confused by it and she gave him a small, sadsmile. "You'll understand one day Darren, when it's far too late."

With that, she closed the door behind her and headed back towards her room, fully prepared to climb in through the window if she had to.


	18. Ch 17 Stepping Away

A/N Okay, unless I get some serious reviewing, this is the last update for a long time. No offense to those who did review, it was freakin amazing, but I'm tired of getting two or three reviews after working so hard on my story. This is the best one I have written yet, and until I get the right sort of acknowledgement for it, I'm not updating. So you better start reviewing! Or you're gonna be missing out!

Chapter Seventeen: Stepping Away

Blaine winced when she looked into the mirror the next day, tilting her jaw so she could see the darkening patch on the lower left side of her face. She'd need a lot of makeup to cover this one up. Maybe she could sneak to the kitchens and grab some ice to sooth it. It was throbbing now. Painfully so. More so then the other bruises he had given her out in the peaceful garden.

But she had come to expect that. He always hit harder on the face. Because he knew he could only hit the face once, and he wanted that one time to really count. After all too many bruises on the face would start to draw questions and questions at this stage would bring nothing but trouble. Trouble that she couldn't afford to deal with.

She sighed and dropped the makeup she'd need later into a little handbag she had begun to carry around with her for just that purpose. Never knew when she'd get caught in an inconvenient place with a flaring bruise.

"Blaine, are you awake?" she winced and looked away from the mirror to the door, for an instant frozen with terror. Then she relaxed her shoulders, forced her mind into calm and walked to the door. Opened it to find her brother standing behind it.

King Terry had been a beautiful man once. She could remember the first time she had seen him. It was just after she had awoken in the body. The man had knocked at the door and when it had opened and he had stepped through she had had a sense of deja vu. For a second she had thought she had been looking at the older, male version of herself. Their faces had been so similar, her delicate features more fine-boned on his face. His jaw had been broader, stronger. But she had seen herself in his face.

His coloring had been lovely, his hair a darker gold then hers, bronzer. And his eyes had been paler, more striking, she thought, because of the fact that they had been so pale. His body had been trim, and in excellent shape. And Blaine had seen more then one of the maids disappear into his room at night only to reappear the next morning coming out through his door.

When she had realized who the man standing in her doorway was, that he was the Princess Marissa's brother, she had felt herself steeled with envy, then pride. After all, he had been her brother then too. And a handsome one at that. Wouldn't all her friends have been jealous if she had had any at the time?

But the past few years had taken their toll on him. His body was skinnier, like a stick, and the muscles that had flexed with every move had melted away into nothing. His face, once so handsome was sheet white, and hollow, bones showing gruesomely, like a skeleton with skin. His thick hair had thinned, and if she hadn't known the truth she would have thought he was deathly sick.

But she did know the truth. And it was that truth that had her stepping away from him, giving him his space. No, he wasn't sick, at least no physically.

"That bruise is darker today, why haven't you put makeup on to cover it?" he asked, reaching out and gripping her face to turn it so he could see the blackened skin. She flinched at the touch, as if it burned.

"Yes, brother dear. I will soon brother, dear," she said in a weak, placating tone. She had learned fast after returning that he held all the power now, all of it. He had complete control over her life, her actions, her fate. And he enjoyed it, wanted her to know that he enjoyed it.

After years of living in her shadow, of always having to hear about his sister, the future knight of Tortall, Terry had finally gotten the seat of power. And with that seat of power he had finally been able to do what he had never done before. He had been able to control her, so he thought. And he lorded over it. And though she hated him, hated the power he had, she knew exactly how to handle him. She did what he expected any peasant to do, any person who was beneath him to do. She bowed at his feet and begged for his kindness. She made herself look up to him, made herself seem like she was helpless without him.

And he loved every second of it. Even now, as she looked up at him, pleading in her eyes, she could see the delight and satisfaction glowing in his own. He loved this, every minute. And it also gave her a certain amount of freedom, because…

"Well don't just stand there, stupid cow, go put that makeup on!"

…because he thought she was a complete dolt and would never, ever, suspect her of the clever things she did to him. In fact, he never suspected her of anything except maybe drooling once and a while. And that was liberating, knowing she could do anything without him knowing, anything at all, and he would simply shrug, and blame someone else. It had come in handy more then once.

However, the fatal flaw in that was that sometimes her character for Terry and her character for Lord Rhys clashed. And sometimes Lord Rhys questioned why Terry thought she was such an idiot, and sometimes he gave away that maybe she wasn't as stupid as Terry thought she was. But she had managed to trick him into a very nice understanding. Lord Rhys was of the opinion that the brown on her nose was from kissing Terry's but all the time. That the pleading she exuded for Terry was actually a thick attempt at brownie points. And if that kept both of them off her back she didn't mind having the image of a suck up.

"Yes brother, but you see, it hurts," she pouted and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. She could also manipulate Terry beyond his understanding. It was one of his greater faults. "It hurts really bad! Can't you make it stop hurting?"

"For god's sakes, don't whine like that!" he shouted and turned, covering his ears with his hands. She gave a very pitiful little whimper and took a hasty step back when he whirled. His eyes were huge, blinded with rage and something deeper, darker, more terrifying that she couldn't identify. He was breathing hard, too hard.

She shuddered and allowed the fear she felt cross her face as he loomed in front of her, his hands outstretched for god knows what. She whimpered again, saw his blood boil. He was approaching a ledge in his mind, a dangerous one, and who know how far he'd go before he fell over, if he would fall at all. And if he fell, who would pull him back. She was scared of that ledge. Scared for what he would do to her once he lost his footing and fell off.

"Shut up!" he screamed, rushing her. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes tight. It didn't hurt as much if you couldn't see it. She knew that, hoped it was true, and prayed she wouldn't find out if it was.

"Terry! What are you doing?" the voice, one she hated and feared just as much, came to her rescue. Lord Rhys swung into the room, an apple held carelessly in one hand, his eyes flat with boredom. "She has a purpose, you know. We can't bruise her too badly. Princess, go to the kitchens and ice down that bruise, see if it fades a little. Then came back immediately. Understand?"

She understood the look in his eyes perfectly, understood the threat that resided there. And the promise.

"Yes Lord Rhys," she curtsied meekly, but her eyes flashed furiously at him when she lifted out of it and walked past him. He grabbed her arm suddenly, bruises building atop bruises. Her mouth opened in a cry of pain as he tugged her towards him, knocked her against his body hard.

When his mouth settled over hers to savage it, her mind went into a frenzy of disgust and the never distant fear. She didn't struggle against him, didn't try to pull away, she knew he only liked it more when she did. Instead she stood frozen, let him have his way.

"As cold as always _Dear_," then he shoved her away and she stumbled from the room, closed the door behind her and simply rested against it, shuddering. Her eyes closed over tears that were pushed back.

Get a grip, Blaine, she scolded as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth in a habit she wouldn't let herself break. Then she simply stood, hands locked against thighs, hair falling forward to cover her face and expelled a slow, long breath.

"Nothing to get upset about, Blaine," she whispered to herself and forced her shoulders to relax. "The body is just a house for the soul. He can touch the body, but he can _never_ touch the soul. So therefore he can _never_ touch you."

Calm once again she pushed off the door and headed off to the kitchens. She would ask for ice, then slip the servant a coin for her silence as she sat in the kitchen icing down her face. She had a feeling she would lose more then just a few coins to buy silence before her time at the palace was over.

She shrugged. What did it matter how many coins she lost over this if she was able to complete the mission? She had to remember, always remember, that the mission came first. Before everything.

Including her coins.

Once seated in the kitchen with a good chunk of ice held with a cloth against her throbbing jaw, Blaine stared ahead at the wall, thinking.

Last night she had thought of stealing the book from Lord Rhys. And today she formulated a plan. She could do it, easily. She was used to putting up an act, and she could be anyone she wanted. With the proper disguise, she could adjust her mannerisms, her walk, even the way she thought to fit that disguise. And using that disguise she could slip into her rooms while both men were away and steal the book. Or better yet…

She could replace the book with a similar one. Then she would have several days to find the perfect hiding place before Lord Rhys would know it was missing. That would be the better of the two, she decided, already running through the coming days in her mind. When would she get her chance?

"I suppose I should start on the disguise first," she muttered and shifted lazily in her seat, allowing the options to cruise through her mind. She would have to pick one that no one would be able to connect her too. A total opposite of what she was. Obviously it would be a man. Men roaming the halls weren't as conspicuous as women. Especially if they looked like nobles.

She gave a faint smile. She had always enjoyed playing male roles. Men's mindset had always fascinated her. She liked to know what made them tick, what drove them, how they... Getting too far ahead of yourself Blaine, she scolded, stick to the basics for now.

But if she was going to be a man, she'd need a wig for that. She'd have to find a way to sneak out of the palace and into the city one night and buy a wig, a black one, short, pin straight. That was truly her only option. And the thought of it made her shudder. It was hard to sneak out of her rooms, especially at night when everyone was quiet. Her window had a tendency to squeak sometimes. And what if she was caught? By a guard. Or worse…

She just wouldn't think about that option, she decided as water began to drip down her hand as the ice slowly melted. A formal ball was coming up, she thought as her brow creased the slightest. Lord Rhys would want her to come, but she could fake something, fatigue. Or… or she could anger _him_. Anger him greatly. So greatly it would be impossible for her to attend the ball. Then she could use their absence to sneak out of the palace into the city.

But what could she do to make him that angry? She stumbled over that. There were plenty of things she could do to make him angry. However, angry enough to hurt her that badly? That was a different story. He usually had iron control over his actions. Lately however…

She shuddered and dropped both hands to the table, stared at them. She wouldn't think of that either. Besides, the throbbing in her jaw had stopped, and Lord Rhys had told her to return immediately once she was done.

The plans were far enough in the works that she could return to the room, after applying the make up of course. Now… to find a mirror. She went off in search of one.

She ended up using the reflection in a window to carefully brighten the blackness to the light purple that shown through. When she was done the bruise was but a shadow on her jaw. And with a quick flick of her hair so it was in a twenties style part, she had her long bangs slashing low across her forehead, curving along her cheek and hanging stylishly over the bruised area, making it look as if the was the cause of the shadow.

That should do it, she thought and headed towards her room, a rare smile flitting across her face. Her step was unusually light as she bounced down the hall. For the first time in forever, she had the sudden urge to sing. Maybe it was the day, maybe it was the planning, or maybe it was finally taking control of things, but she began to hum softly.

However, when she turned down the corridor that led to her rooms the cheerful little hum ended, the smile fell away, and her steps became heavy. What was he doing there? Why was he standing outside her door? And with her?

Panic wanted to take flight when she saw Lord Rhys standing in the doorway, an intimidating figure, even standing before two trained knights. She hurried on wanting to see what was the matter, see if he was saying something he shouldn't. She'd have to stop him if he was.

"Ah, there you are, Darling. I was just wondering when you'd be back," Lord Rhys stepped out of the door and to her, his hand sliding low around her waist, fingers biting hard into flesh bruised the day before. She didn't make a sound as he gripped hard, harder then was necessary under any terms.

Instead, she turned to Merric, felt the ice inside her expand until it coated her voice, lived vibrantly in her eyes for the world to see. Her voice killed like a winter frost when she spoke. "What is it you want Merric?"

"It's time for training, Princess. Remember? That's what you came here to do. Shall we?" he gestured and turned half away, as if to lead her to the training courts. But she couldn't move if she had wanted to.

Lord Rhys's hand had shifted from low around her waist, touching the curve of her hips, up high to around her ribs. He squeezed painfully and before she could gain control, before she knew what was happening, she was crying out and struggling out of his grip. Her ribs had become extremely sensitive to any pressure since that first time _he_ had broken them. She couldn't remember what she had said to make him angry that time. But she could still remember the pain that had accousted her body, the echo of which was steadily growing now.

But she wasn't strong enough to make him to let go, and he only pulled tighter. The pain started to cut off her air and she wondered if the ribs wouldn't simply just break all over again. It couldn't possibly hurt less then this.

Then there was another hand, prying at the one torturing her ribs. And this hand was connected to a body with the strength that she didn't have. She felt the moment the muscles on Lord Rhys gave, the moment the pressure stopped and she stumbled from his embrace.

She heard shouting, but was unaware of it as she bent at the waist and wheezed, waiting for it all to fade away. That had been a foolish thing she had done, crying out like that. What had she been thinking? She was never to show pain, never to show true emotion, never to give away any part of her true self. They could sap up as much of her characters as they wanted. But they couldn't have her true self. And that's what she had given them by crying out.

"Come on Blaine," she felt a hand grab her—the same one that had freed her?—and tug her along. She followed blindly, still chiding herself until the words started to penetrate.

"Did you see the way he was holding her like that? I thought for sure her ribs would break," the voice seethed. Blaine followed the hand on her wrist up the arm, past the shoulder to the face. Merric.

Furious, she yanked her hand from his grasp. It caught him off guard and he turned to her, startled. She could see it, but she didn't care past the anger. He seemed to do nothing but bad things for her, she thought as she tried to grab hold of her raging temper. All she managed to do was freeze it, so it came out as ice.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed. Her eyes locked on Merric's for a second before flitting to the woman beside him. Claire again. What was she doing here, she wondered. Hadn't she given up on Merric yet?

"Why did I do what?" Merric asked, confused. The anger hadn't triggered yet, but she was sure to fix that soon.

"Why did you do that?" she gestured helplessly back towards her room. "Why did you pull me away?" There it was. She saw it in his eyes. Yes, she knew how to anger him, and she relished it. Anything to upset him now that he'd lost her books. Anything to hurt him now that he had hurt her once again. Anything.

"I'm sorry if I tried to save your life. But, Princess, he was trying to break you ribs. Likely would have if I hadn't pulled him off."

"So?" she hissed and tried to step away. Merric simply followed with a step in her direction. "What does it matter to you what he does? He's my betrothed, not you. I'm his Princess, not yours. He can do whatever he wants."

"That's not right! He doesn't have the right to hurt you like that. Blaine, you don't have to put up with that," his voice softened, as did his eyes. Looking into them, Blaine felt something in her heart give. And it scared her because she knew what that something was, knew what it meant when it gave like that. And she didn't want it to do so.

"Thanks to you, I do," she hissed, saw the way he flinched and kept right on going. "You gave away those books, Merric. And the second you did you condemned me to this. And why do you care? Yesterday you didn't care if I was dead or alive. In fact, you said you were through with me. Well, now I'm through with you. I'm tired of your games and your changing and foolish emotions. You can't just love me one day and hate me the next. You can't just love me and—"

"He never loved you, little girl," Claire interjected. Blaine heard the crude delight in her voice and wanted to frown. Then bristled at the name. Blaine had years over her.

"And what are you doing here, Claire? Come to steal away my knight master again? Lady Keladry still not good enough for you?" She frowned when Claire laughed, a high, patronizing laugh.

"Silly little girl, I'm not a squire any more. I'm a knight now."

Blaine pulled back, physically as well as mentally. She had forgotten. She had lost more then just time when she had been in Tusaine, more then just her freedom. She had lost touch with these people, forgotten about them. In her mind they were still the same people they had been, as if the past four years hadn't happened for them. But they had happened, and things had changed while she had gone. People had moved on, had continued to learn and grow. Had continued in their training. Had become knights.

And now Claire was above her. Damnit.

Well, she be damned if she let either of these people see that it bothered her. With more then a little effort she fixed her face into a beautiful friendly smile. "Of course. How could I have forgotten? Well, congratulations. Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Claire seemed taken aback for a moment or two before she smiled herself and answered. "It's all it lived up too. And more," here she stopped and looked over at Merric. There was something in her eyes, in both their eyes that had her questioning. Wordlessly, Claire linked arms with Merric, then held out her hand. Something glinted in the light on her hand and instinctively Blaine looked.

A ring.

The breath whooshed out of her in shock, but she managed to curb it into an exclamation. In sudden survival mood she let a random character take over, gushing over the ring, asking the required questions, wishing them luck. When did he purpose? Was the wedding soon? She was invited, wasn't she?

Inside she was reeling.

Engaged? Did this have something to do with the hatred he expressed towards her? Did he love Claire? What had happened to the love he had had when he had looked at her four years ago? Had that just been wiped away, like it meant nothing? And why did it matter to her what he felt? Hadn't he abandoned her, pushed her off at her enemy? Hadn't he given away the books, forcing her into a blind waiting?

But hadn't he just saved you, another voice, one she hated, asked. She quelled the voice and came slowly out of the character shield once she was sure her emotions were under control.

"If you'll excuse me, I have something I must go do. It was… good seeing you again, Blaine," Claire gave a hesitant but genuine smile then turned to Merric to whisper her goodbyes. Blaine looked politely away until she was gone. Then continued to stare away from Merric in the silence. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to talk to him when she couldn't even look at him?

"Come, squire, we need to train," Merric reached for her hand, to guide her along, but Blaine jerked back, staring up at him with wide, vibrant eyes, then quickly looked back away. Her hand slipped from his and she linked it with her other in front of her so he wouldn't try to grab them again.

"No," she whispered calmly. Inside she was quaking, her heart bulging with too many emotions unrealized, her head spinning with too many questions unanswered. But she had learned her place, and she knew how to hide her unruly emotions.

"What do you mean, no?" Merric looked at her, puzzled. And she saw, really saw. He had changed outwardly. Muscles that had been average before were now stronger. His walk that had once been filled with the cockiness of young knights was now filled with the arrogance of a proved knight. There were scars now that hadn't been there before, wounds that hadn't quite healed. He _was_ different. Outside. But mentally, he was the same. He was still like that young man she had first met, angry and dissatisfied, and taking it out on her. And she wouldn't stand for it today. "You can't just tell me no, I'm your knight master. You have to listen to me."

"What part of no don't you understand, Merric?" her voice was tired, resigned. She knew he was spoiling for a fight, but she wasn't. All she wanted was to be left alone. She had enough on her hands without those books he had lost. She didn't need him making it any worse. "It's two simple letters, Merric. N and O. When you put them together it makes the word NO, which means negative, negatory, not gonna happen. Which is exactly what it's supposed to mean. This is not going to happen, Merric."

"What's not going to happen?" Merric was angry now, really angry. But she was too tired, so deathly tired, and too cold, so chillingly cold, to fight him, to find any satisfaction in the fact that she could still get to him. She just wanted to make her point so he would let her go.

"_This_ isn't doing to happen," she waved her hand between them, and it took more effort then she knew. "_We_ aren't going to happen. I can't work with you Merric, not after what you've done to me. I'm sorry, excuse me."

"What have I done?" he shouted, and grabbed at her shoulders, keeping her from walking away. But he was clutching at smoke, at fading hopes and lost dreams. She was walking away, and there was nothing he could do. "Is this about those stupid books? Blaine! They were just journals! And yours at that! Get over it!"

Now she was angry, truly angry. Why did he refuse to understand? The tiredness that had seemed too huge vanished like a snap as the fury over his stubbornness to except and his blatant disregard for the efforts she put into her mission roared. Turning, she did something she had wanted to do—whether to Chris or to Merric at that moment it didn't matter—for a long time. She turned and with an open hand slapped Merric as hard as she could. Then she screamed.

"Those weren't journals! And it's not about me! It has nothing to do with me. I'm trying to save your scrawny ungrateful ass, trying to save the world! All the worlds! And you're trying so hard to stop me. We're running in circles here, Merric. And I have neither the time, nor the energy, nor the inclination to do it. I'm stepping out of this circle Merric. You can run it alone. But stay out of my way or I'll hurt you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have many damages that you have caused to repair, first of which is sucking up to the man you pulled me away from. Goodbye, Merric."

Without another word from either of them, Blaine turned and walked away.

(page break isn't working, so this is a page break right here.)

Merric saw her later that night, at dinner in the mess hall. He could still picture the way she had walked away from him, still hear the words she had said to him, and feel the way his heart had clutched and pulled when she had turned her back on him.

And watching her now, watching her sitting at the table in front of him, laughing and talking with Darren and Sir Nealan as if nothing had happened, hurt. She didn't seem effected at all with what had happened. She acted as if walking away from him had meant nothing to her.

_And who could blame her_, part of him argued. Hadn't he been pushing her away since she had returned, hadn't he been treating her like dirt. But she had deserved it, he reasoned. She had lied to him, betrayed him.

_Fooled you, more like_.

No! She had betrayed him. He had thought himself in love with her because he thought she had been kind, considerate, an excellent knight in the making, and a beautiful princess soon to become a queen. He had thought she had been loyal, had been loving, had been true.

But then she had fired Darren, sent him away, as if their years together had meant nothing at all. All those things he had been so sure she had been, were lies. She had lied to him, tricked him into loving her, then had turned out to be everything he had expected her to be. And he hated her for it now.

_Then why do you care if she pushes you out of her life?_

He didn't care, he argued. He was just upset because now he couldn't be true to his duties. He had taken her on as his squire and now he was failing in his job. And he didn't like to fail. Therefore, tomorrow morning he would return to her, try again to train her.

And he'd keep trying until he made her into a true knight

_Or until she loves you_.

He shrugged it off, that inner voice that was always warring with his thoughts. And what did it know any way? It was just a voice… and not a pleasant sounding one at that.

His attention was drawn suddenly to the door. He saw them standing there, searching the crowd. Must be looking for Blaine, he decided as he recognized them. Lord Rhys was hard to mistake, with that dark scowl on his face. And from the similarities in the features of the second man, and the similar coloring, he assumed it was King Terry.

He was about to hail them to his table, ask them permission to have Blaine train with him tomorrow. But a sudden clatter from the table in front of him had him looking, focusing in on Blaine. Her back had become rigidly straight, her shoulders so taut he thought they would break. She had dropped her fork onto her tray, and following the direction of her gaze, he saw it was because of the two men standing in the doorway.

"Blaine?" he heard faintly. Darren had turned to her, asked her the question, but it was as if she couldn't hear. She continued to stare at the door as if she was staring at a ghost. "Blaine you're shaking! What is it?"

Then she shook her head and turned away. The men were gone, with a furious spin on their heel. And Blaine was talking and laughing once more. But he detected just the barest hint of sorrow cascading down over her and he wondered what had caused it.

Could it have been the men? With an absent shrug, he bent back to his plate and continued to peck at his food. It didn't matter to him, she didn't. All that mattered was fulfilling his promise to make her into a knight.

A/N Okay, that was the end. And I'm serious about this. If I don't get a whole load of reviews, I'm not updating for a looooong time. And don't you want to know what happens next? Don't you want to see how she'll anger him so she can sneak into the city? How Merric will handle her? How Blaine will handle Merric? Huh? HUH? DON'T YOU? So kindly review! All of you. ALL OF YOU! Okay, Bubye now!

-Nubia


	19. Ch 18 Secrets and Mistakes

A/N So here I am! Thanks sooo much for the reviews, even though I had to threaten for them. But yeah, for those of you who did review, it was greatly appreciated! It was also really good feedback. So, if you notice any mistakes, or anything you think I could improve on, send it to me in a review! I command you. lol. Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter Eighteen: Secrets and Mistakes

Blaine came awake with a jerk as fire lanced across her scalp. It felt like someone was pulling the hair right out of her head. And as her body was dragged from the bed and her hip connected hard with the ground, she realized someone was. She felt more then one of her hairs give and rip painfully from her skin.

In the world of dark that surrounded her, all that existed was the pain in her scalp and the fear in her heart. Her quivering hands grabbed at the one in her hair, trying to get it to dislodge. Her heels dug into the ground as she kicked her feet, tried to get away. Her mind scrambled for understanding, and she was sure it was because of that that she struggled so viciously, so erratically. If she could just get an understanding of what was going on, she was certain she could have escaped, gotten away. She had to believe it.

Then she was in the light, in a room. The sitting room. The hand had left her hair once it had thrown her on the ground, her chin hitting hard, snapping her mouth closed. Her tongue bled as it got caught between her teeth.

But the hand hadn't left her entirely. She felt it at the back of her nightdress, grabbing the neckline, ripping it down to her ankles. She shivered with the combination of the cold air caressing her bared skin, and the eyes that roamed freely along her naked back. She wanted to cover up, felt so exposed laying there, her back bared for his eyes. Now that her mind was working she knew who this was.

"What are you doing?" Blaine hissed, but didn't move. If she moved it would be worse, much much worse. She knew that. From experience.

"I told you that you were never allowed to see him again! Didn't I tell you that you were never allowed to see him again?" something hit her back as the man above her screamed and it was like lightening crackled across it as the skin rose and split, as blood beaded and ran. She opened her mouth in a silent scream.

"Answer me!" he raged and another strike of lightening arched across her back, and she knew there was no end in sight. She could hear it in his voice, the desperation, the anger, the utter hatred. And laced behind all of it was a madness that she couldn't explain, that she feared.

"Yes," she whimpered and braced for more. There was always more.

**(PAGE BREAK! that button still isn't working it seems)**

Blaine walked slowly into the mess hall, her back aching with every step she took. But she could stand it because it wasn't as bad as the screaming agony it had been only an hour before. She had to swallow, had to suppress a shudder as she remembered how her back had looked in the mirror, like a slab of raw meat torn to pieces by wild animals.

That bloody mass back there had been a pain in the ass to clean and bandage. And it had bled like a stuck pig. Even now she could feel the blood slowly seeping past the red swelled welts that criss-crossed along her back, soaked up by the layers and layers of bandage.

The bandages were nearly as thick as the anger that slammed through her with every beat of her pulse. She remembered back to last night how she had been utterly terrified upon first waking, of not knowing what was happening, or who was dragging her. And how it had manifested to this rage and hatred when she had realized she knew exactly who it was.

If she hadn't been so angry she would probably fear for her life. _He_ had been angry with her, sure, plenty of times. And he had been abusive, that was for certain. She could still remember the aches and pains that had infused her body more then once in the past.

But it had never been as serious as this, never, ever, had he drawn actual blood from her. With a frustrated sigh she took a seat at the table and slumped, then whimpered at the agony that lanced down her back when her skin stretched and pulled. She forced her back ramrod straight and blinked away the tears.

She was hoping the welts would heal by themselves. Not only did she not like healers, but also she didn't want anyone to see them. It seemed pretty obvious to her that there was no excuse for the marks on her back, no lie that could push away curious by-standers. There was only one thing that could have caused that. And there was really only one person that they could point the finger at. It had to be the fiancé, simply because that was most logical. And of course they would be so sure they were right. But anyone who'd watched at least one good cop show could get this one.

"God, what a cliché," she groaned and dropped her head into her hands, which pulled on her skin of her back again. This time harder. And it hurt more. She cried out fully this time, lifting her head and grabbing hard onto the edge of the tray, waiting for the waves of pain to pass. Her knuckles were white on the tray and it shook with the force of her grip.

"Are you alright?" the person next to her asked, but she didn't look. Her eyes were squeezed tight to ward off the pain. "Hey? Princess Blaine?"

She felt a hand reach out and touch her cheek. She jerked away, felt more pain, and huffed out her breath. Slowly she opened her eyes, as they grew watery and looked at the man beside her, talking to her. It was Sir Nealan. Just what she needed.

"I…" she had to stop and catch her breath, clear her throat before she could talk past the pain. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Pain's pulsing all around you. What happened?" she just shook her head slowly and grabbed at her fork, shoved a forkful of food into her mouth and felt like an idiot because it would be impossible for her to swallow past the gigantic lump in her throat.

"Maybe she pulled something while she was ripping out Darren's heart," a voice, she knew it was Merric's, snarled snidely as he slide into a seat across from her. She felt a fist grab her heart and squeeze, felt her eyes well again and wondered where her anger had gone. She wanted to grab onto it, cloak herself in it. Anger was easier to handle then this mounting despair. This despair that she knew came from what she had said the day before.

"I never ripped Darren's heart out, Peasant," she hissed once she had managed to swallow, then jabbed her fork in his direction. "In fact, you seem to be the only one still upset about any of this. Which is ridiculous because it had nothing to do with you at all. It's between me and Darren, not you. So find whatever the hell crawled up your butt and get it out. And furthermore, Darren's a big boy, has been for a long time. I'm pretty sure he can take getting rejected at least once. Besides, you and I are no longer in the circle together. Now if you'll excuse me," she grabbed her plate, and turned on her seat to stand so she could leave. She didn't see Merric's eyes flash with rage, rage that covered the hurt of his own rejection.

He stood as she was about to, grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her back hard, wanting to see her face when he finally gave her the verbal beating he felt she deserved. He never got to it.

Blaine felt the hand on her shoulder, felt the jerk that flung her back, and she had a second to brace before her back pressed hard into the sharp edge of the table. Then as she simply let go, stopped struggling, her entire back was pulled so it was being pressed into the tabletop. She opened her mouth in a silent scream.

And then it wasn't so silent.

All movement stopped as she screamed bloody murder. Merric was so stunned by her reaction he forgot to let her go. She struggled, trying to get away from the pressure that made her back feel as if the skin was being held against an open fire. But he simply stared down at her, shock written all over his face.

"Let go! Let go!" she grabbed his hands in hers and scrambled with her nails as her breath sobbed. She couldn't see past the tears, past the pain. All she could do was feel and that hurt too much, too much to survive.

The last thing she saw before she fell into an oblivion so complete was Merric's shocked face staring at her own twisted in pain.

**(PAGE BREAK!)**

"What the hell happened to her, Neal?" the voice was her first greeting as she swam out of silent black depths. She groaned, pressing a hand to her head as it throbbed. Then whimpered as her back echoed it.

"Shh… she's waking. Blaine? Can you hear me?" she groaned again, then nodded just the slightest. She was laying on her stomach on a hard surface that was trying to be soft. A cot… in the healing ward?

She hated healers, who would have brought her here? Everyone she knew was well aware of the fact that she would suffer days before even thinking of seeking a healer. So who would be foolish enough to bring her here? Opening her eyes seemed too much of an effort, so she let the question go.

"Why don't you just heal her already? She's bleeding still. Neal, I'm no healer, but even I know she's losing too much blood."

"She hates healers. I have to ask her permission first. Blaine, can you hear me? You need to wake up Princess," she nodded again, her eyes opening barely enough to see. When she saw Merric sitting across from her, looking angry and brutish, she decided sleeping was a better idea.

With a grumble she flipped over onto her back, then chocked back a scream as she propelled herself up, off her back. "Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed as she made her back impossibly straight, sucked in her stomach against the pain, then simply tried to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Nealan asked, looking at her with concern, as his hands rested feather light on her shoulders. She nodded, then smiled sheepishly.

"Forgot for a second, is all. Better now, thanks. And Lord Rhys is probably worried sick about me. I best be going."

"Sit!"

The command was so sudden, so loud, so…_forceful_, Blaine sat back down in surprise. Then she simply stared at Merric, wide-eyed with shocked. He had never been so… authoritative with her before, never ordered her around before. She was speechless.

"Nealan, heal her now!" Again, his voice was harsh, commanding. All Blaine could do was blink several times, owlishly, as Nealan's hand began to glow green. As it started to move towards her back, her eyes trained on it.

"No! Don't!" she shouted and knocked his hands away. What had she been thinking? She couldn't let him heal her. This was her perfect escape. Now that she was awake, her mind clear, the gears in her mind were finally churning. She had no reason to be mad at _him_, for beating her like this. She should be thanking him.

How could she have forgotten? The dress that had been made for the ball tomorrow evening had a low back. A very low back. With the welts that marred her skin, and the dress? Not a good combination. All eyes would be free to see what had happened to her. And she knew they wouldn't want that. Oh no, Lord Rhys and Terry definitely wouldn't want that.

They'd forbid her from attending the ball, and of course, she'd throw a fit, maybe even a full-blown tantrum, if she was up to being hit around a little more. Then they would go to the ball. And she would have the perfect opportunity to sneak out and get her disguise while they were away.

Of course there was always the chance that Lord Rhys would leave the book behind, in the chambers, so she would have to check for the book before she left. But she doubted, very much, that he would leave the book behind. He only left the book in the room when he knew that Terry would be there to watch over it. So, if both of them were gone, he would take the book.

Of course, that would leave the question of how she would get them both to leave the room without taking the book, but she could think of that later. Maybe she'd send Lord Rhys off on an errand then send a letter to Terry sending him on a wild—

"I said no!" she shouted and shoved Nealan's hand away again. Looking up into Merric's hard face she was drawn out of her planning. She could see it was him that was driving Nealan to heal her and she was ready, and much more then willing, to butt heads with him over this matter. There was no way in hell she was getting her back healed now. Not when it presented such a wondrous opportunity to her. Her eyes glinted, dangerously.

"Neal, I said heal her!" Merric shouted and stood, his stance foreboding. With a quick glance at Nealan, she saw the way he glanced back and forth between the two, saw the uncertainty in his eyes. And cursed inwardly.

As much fun as it would be to spar verbally with Merric, she couldn't take the chance that she would lose. She needed these wounds. Needed them badly. And the easiest path to get them was through Sir Nealan. Once she had had him wrapped around her little finger. She was certain she could do it again.

Giving Nealan a pitiful glance, she slowly lowered her head into her hands and began to quietly weep, a low, dignified showing of tears. She could practically feel the glare Merric gave her.

"What are you waiting for, Neal? Heal her!" Merric shouted. Biding her time, Blaine wept just a little louder allowing her shoulders to shake just a little more. Peeking through her fingers she saw Sir Nealan waver.

"Merric, I don't think…"

"What? You don't think it's a good idea? Mithros sake, Neal! Her back is raw with welts and she's been bleeding all morning. If you don't heal her, who knows what will happen? She's a princess, you can't just let her die from something like this."

"Merric, it's not like this is a life or death situation. She'll heal naturally in time, I'm sure. And besides, she hates healings. It's just… emotionally more stable for her if we don't interfere," Nealan nodded, and Blaine nearly laughed. How she loved this man. So genuine in his feelings, so easy to manipulate. .

"As her knight master I command you to heal her! Do it, Neal. Now!"

"You can't!" Blaine burst out, then grabbed onto Nealan's shoulder, hard. Her eyes went wide, desperate. Tears poured elegantly from her forest green eyes, eyes that pleaded silently with him. "You don't understand."

"What is it that we don't understand, Princess? There's nothing to not understand! Lord Rhys beat you and now your back is one massive wound. It needs to be healed. Neal do it!" Merric shouted.

"Sir Nealan! Please!" her voice was roughened with the seemingly earnestness in her voice. She grabbed his hand and warmed it between her own two as she pleaded with her eyes, green meeting green. "You don't understand! You don't know what it's like!"

"Of course, sweetie, a man can never understand what it's like to be beaten, to be helpless. But you're not alone. I _can_ help you. I can heal you." Nealan squeezed her hand, then dislodged one getting ready to heal her.

"No! Nealan you can't! If he… if he knew you…" she stopped as she let her voice break on sob, bowing her head to seemingly weep a bit more. Then she rubbed daintily at her eyes before lifting her head and piercing her eyes with his, her eyes heavy with fear and striking with her determination. "If he found out I told you, that I told anyone, about this? You don't know what he'd do to me if he knew I told."

She saw she was hooking him in, but Merric was far from convinced, and she knew Nealan wouldn't be completely stopped unless Merric was stopped. So she decided to embellish. Just a little, just enough. Her eyes darkened sharply.

"Look… you… you aren't the first person to try and help, Sir Nealan. Back… back in Tusaine when it first started, it got bad one night, very bad. I… I could hardly move, let alone walk to the healers. And I was scared! God, so scared. That'd I die, that I wouldn't. That he do it again. But he wouldn't call healers to me. So… I… one night, a few days later after I had recovered some, I went for the healers on my own. I… I told them everything, everything he was doing to me. And the healer, he... he was nice and he... he offered to help. We made plans, promises, he was going to get me out, back to Tortall where I would be safe. But… but…" she stopped and buried her face in fisted hands.

Nealan made a soothing noise, and smoothed his hand over her hair, trying to comfort her. She wept silently for a few minutes more, for effect. Then sniffed. "He found out, didn't he?"

Blaine nodded under his hand, then looked up. "He found out, and it was worse, much worse, then what he had done to drive me to the healers. And he... he had the... the healer... he hung him for treason. For helping me! So you see? This isn't bad at all compared to what he'll do if you heal me. Nothing compared ot what he'll do to you if he knew. Then he'll know, he'll _know_, I told someone. Please, Nealan. Don't put me through that! Not again, I can't do it again."

She watched, inwardly pleased, as Neal and Merric exchanged quick glances. Then Nealan patted her hand reassuringly. "Alright, Princess. But can I heal you just enough so the bleeding stops?"

Blaine considered with a slight frown, then nodded hesitantly. What harm would that do?

**(PAGE BREAK)**

He caught her as she was leaving the healing ward. The door had closed behind her hand she had leaned her butt against it, thinking. Of all the people she would have entrusted this secret with, the last one at the moment, was Merric.

That boy was trouble. One minute he loved her, then he hated her, then he wanted to help her? What was next? Would he hate her again? And if he did decide to hate her again, she couldn't risk it. But it was too late now. There was no way to erase his memory, was there?

She froze as she heard footsteps, turned.

As she saw him, she pushed off the door quietly, hoping that Merric would remain inside for a while longer. He had said that he had something to speak to Nealan about, so she had left on her own. She could only pray he would be in there for a while. From the look in the eyes staring into her own this wouldn't be pretty.

"What are you doing outside the healing ward, Blaine?" the voice was filled to the brim with that madness she had felt the night before when he had been slaving over her.

"I… n-nothing," she flinched when he raised his hand and turned her head to the side before whispering fiercely, "One of the pages had a fever and I took him to the ward, that's all! That's it!"

"You aren't lying to me, are you Blaine?" again the hand rose. Again she flinched.

"No! No, I'd never lie! It's the truth," she stammered and tried to back away, realized she had nowhere to go. The door was at her back.

"I don't believe you," he hissed and grabbed her face in one hand, squeezed. "Now you're going to find out what I do to liars."

As he dragged her into the shadows of a rarely used hall, Blaine whimpered.

**(PAGEBREAK)**

Darren frowned as he sat down for the dinner that evening. Something was off today. He hadn't seen Blaine once, and when he had gone to her chambers to ask for her, Lord Rhys had told him she was feeling sick and wanted to stay in bed.

But Darren knew Blaine, and he knew when she was sick she hated being confined to bed. They had to practically strap her down when she was sick. And when she was sick, she never admitted it, and would deny it to the grave. So why would she tell Lord Rhys she was sick, then allow herself to be locked away for the day?

No, something wasn't right.

"Something wrong, Darren?" Claire asked as she scooted into the seat next to Merric, who was in a deep whispered conversation with Neal. Darren frowned again. What could they be talking about? With the way Merric was gesturing wildly with every uttered word he looked angry. And Neal, his expression was worried, deeply worried.

"I'm upset about Blaine," Darren gave a pause as both men that he had been observing stopped talking immediately and focused on him with dark eyes. "Lord Rhys said she was sick today, but Blaine never lets sickness keep her down. And she never admits when she's sick. You haven't seen her, today, have you?"

"I happened to see her today, yes. She looked very pale. Perhaps she was sick." Claire gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand motherly. But he didn't feel any better about it.

"Merric, Neal, have you seen Blaine today?" Darren asked them, and looked closely at them. And though they told him that they hadn't seen her, looking at them the way he was, he saw immediately that they lied.


	20. Ch 19 Failure

A/N I don't know why it's so hard to get reviews on this story. My other ones didn't have any trouble at all. And it frustrates me because this one story seems to be the best I have ever written so far. So please, if you read this chapter, review!

Chapter Nineteen: Failure

Blaine blinked when she stepped out of the dark night into a homely looking tavern. The bang of the door jerking into the wall caused all movement to stop, all conversations to drop, and all eyes to lock on her.

The image that the people inside of the Dancing Dove saw when they looked at her was not the impressive sight of a formidable future knight, nor the soft, pretty face of a Princess, nor even the regal beauty of a soon to be queen. No, she presented none of those, though without the slightest hesitation or effort, she could have.

What the people of the tavern saw, what the cheerful drinkers and merry dancers, the talkers and the watchers, the people sitting and the people serving, the men, the woman, the crooks and the cops, what they saw when they looked at the door that night was a haggard sight.

The shirt she wore was huge, baggy, hanging limply around one shoulder, hanging off the other. It left her without shape except for the white shoulder that poked through. But if one were to look at her from the back they would see the traces of blood that leaked through her shirt. Her pants were capris, tight and torn at the knee where she had tripped over a root and taken a dive. They looked at that shirt, at those pants, even at her feet where only one shoe resided, the other having been lost in the wild dash. But it wasn't that which made them stare.

Her hair was stringy and limp, greasy and lank, all polish and shine gone. She had it tied back in a pony, the band at the base of her neck. But her hasty flight through the woods had pulled strands free that fell crudely about her face. They saw the leaf littler that clung to her dirty locks, the twigs that stuck out. But perhaps it wasn't the hair either.

The face that said hair so crudely framed was streaked with dirt and grime. One side of it, her left, was the color of a plumb, but the ice she had used had caused the swelling to minimize enough that she could open both eyes. There was a string of bruises across her neck in the shape of ten, long, thin fingers. They saw those fresh, vivid bruises, and the shadows of ones less new. But it wasn't that either which made them stare.

It was the eyes, those bottle green eyes staring out of a face too bruised, a body too abused for the expression that was in them, that made them stop. Her eyes shown in the lantern light like lost jewels long forgotten. They sparkled and shown with a light of hope that had others quivering in their wake. People stopped, and stared, and they saw her ragged appearance. But it was the look in her eyes that made them reel.

Blaine's arm jerked, and the spell broke. The movements begun again, the conversations were taken back up, and the eyes looked away. Well, most of the eyes looked away. Two pairs watched as Blaine took a halting step forward, winced when her shoeless foot stepped on the bare wood and ran with blood from a cut.

As she walked tremblingly across the tavern to the bar, she thought of what an idiot she was. Being locked away in her room for two days wasn't what she called fun, especially not when she was being used as a personal punching bag. Blaine had a high pain tolerance. And she was willing to put up with some things for the sake the mission. But that had been above and beyond the call of duty and she hadn't been willing to stretch to reach it. Not willing at all.

So when she had gotten the orders earlier that evening that she wasn't allowed to leave room and that she was not allowed to attend the ball she had been more then eager to get her chance to escape. She had wanted to tear out of that room the second it closed behind Lord Rhys and Terry's backs. But she had forced herself to remain in bed, forced herself to wait at least ten minutes to make sure they weren't coming back for her.

Then she had snuck into Lord Rhys's room, checking for the book. Better safe then sorry, she had muttered to herself as she searched the room and found nothing, as she had expected. Then she had climbed into her present attire, slipped out the window into the pages courtyard and hadn't stopped running until she had hit the streets of Chorus.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! She shouted as she swayed around a table and finally made it to the bar. She'd have scratches and bruises now that she'd never be able to explain. She'd have to get a healing, which she despised, or she'd have to cover it up with makeup. Just another thing to cover up, she thought as she mentally slapped her forehead.

If only she had slowed down while she had been taking that forest short cut, like she had tried to tell herself. If she had gone slow like she had wanted she wouldn't have been scratched that way, she wouldn't have lost a shoe, and she wouldn't now be limping with every other step.

But she had just been so scared, so scared that he was following her, that he had come back to the room as she was leaving, had seen her slip out the window into the dark. And as soon as that dark had surrounded her thousands of things she hadn't heard or seen while inside sprang to life. As her breath had hitched, her legs had pumped, and she had sprinted down that trail she had heard echoing footsteps, two sets of heavy breathing, and the whispered words of "I'm right behind you."

She had spooked.

And now I'm limping, she thought, stepping to the bar, like any idiot would. She looked up with an emotionless face, her eyes carefully shielded and judged the man behind that bar. He was young, obviously new from the way he hesitated with putting away that glass, like he didn't know where it was supposed to go quite yet. When he turned he had kind eyes in a soft face. This one wore his heart on his sleeve, and what a gentle one at that.

As she watched him, he turned and looked at her, assessing her face, the bruises, the scratches, the scars both visible and on the inside. And his face softened with sympathy. Perfect.

With a piteous whimper, she let the haunted feeling she that had plagued her on the trail alight in her eyes. She leaned on hand against the top of the bar, pressed the other to the un-bruised cheek. In a dry croak she demanded, "A-are all the shops c-closed?"

_Poor thing_, he must be thinking, Blaine thought as she kept her face in that helpless damsel mask and watched the bartender. His eyes were curving down, his eyebrows accenting, his head tilting to the side. Ah yes, he felt sorry for her, and he wanted to help her. Even better.

"Yes, at dark," he gave a frown, picked up a glass and absently started to clean it with a dishtowel as he watched her and she watched him back through falsely tired eyes.

"All of them?"

"Yes, you can come back tomorrow. In the meantime, is there something I can do for you, dear?" Blaine gave a jerking sob, fisted her hands and pressed them hard to her eyes, wincing when she hit a bruise.

"No no no!" She moaned as she sank weakly into a stool set at the bar, she tipped her head down until her forehead rested against the solid wood and just lay there. Tired out of her mind, a total failure. How could she have forgotten? This was Tortall, not Earth. Stores closed at sundown. They didn't have electricity and lights, they didn't have cars and buses, and locks and security systems. Here, when darkness hit, so did the crooks. Darkness was these peoples ultimate weakness. And because she had forgotten that, that simple fact, she had failed.

Her head came up sharply and she stared into the bartender's eyes, hers impossibly green, impossibly bright, genuine tears welling. When she spoke her voice trembled and she didn't have to try, didn't have to act, this was real. Her skin paled and her lips took on a tinge of blue as she shivered. "I'm too late. Oh God, I'm too late!"

This had been it! Her golden opportunity. Who knew the next time something like this would happen? Who knew the next time she would be able to blow him into a temper like she had? Who knew? It could be days, weeks, even years! The books could be found, united and the world could end all because of a stupid miscalculation. All because she had brain lapsed. With a moan she sunk her fingers deep into her hair and gripped.

"It's over," her voice was flat, dead of emotion. Her eyes were bored, empty as she stared straight ahead. "It's all over."

"Come now, it can't be that bad!" she looked up at him, at his kind eyes and was sorry she had thought of using him. But now it didn't matter. She had no need of him because it was over. Her plan had sunk before it had begun and here she was, risking her life. For nothing.

"Oh it's bad alright. It's real bad. Do you realize what he'll do when he finds out I'm here? That I snuck out to the city without his permission? He'll slaughter me for sure. I'm a dead woman walking."

"Look, it really can't be that bad. There's always hope for a better future, isn't there?" the man gave a half-hearted smile and an awkward laugh. Wordlessly, Blaine stood and lifted her shirt to bare her stomach so the blackened flesh was visible to his eyes.

"This is nothing compared to what he'll do to me," she deadpanned.

"Put your shirt down! That isn't proper," Blaine dropped the shirt as the bartender looked over her shoulder, nodded, then looked back to her, setting down the glass he had been rubbing long past it had been clean. "There's someone who wants too see you."

Blaine turned and looked where the kind man pointed. Through the moving bodies, laughing faces, and swirling smoke of Tortall's version of cigarettes she could see a man sitting mulishly on a roughly carved wooden throne.

His legs were encased in dark brown pants and throne out wide in front of him. His torso was lean and covered in a deep green shirt, long-sleeved. One hand held a cup lazily in his lap while the other rested on the armrest of the throne, supporting his strong, nicely rounded chin. His hair was black and curled around the elementary crown perched upon his head. And his dark eyes were watching her intently with a "come hither" look in them.

Sluggishly—how long had it been since she last ate?—Blaine turned away from the bar and fought her way through the crowd. Her legs were weak, trembly, she had to fight for each step. Her entire body was shivering with the never abating cold that seemed to have penetrated her mind the moment she realized she had failed. As she stumbled past the final table before the throne she wrapped her hands protectively across her chest and rubbed at her arms, trying to warm herself.

The two pairs of eyes that had never left her since she entered the tavern noticed the action but found two different interpretations for it.

Blaine stopped before the throne and looked at the man sitting upon it. He hadn't moved at all, except to turn his face so he looked at her straight on. His face was expressionless, his eyes a deep chocolate brown appraising her carefully.

She stared back at him solemnly, too depressed to care that he was watching her a little too closely, a little too attentively. She was too tired and cold to care that his eyes roamed down her body and lingered on places that would have a common peasant hanged if their postions had been reversed, and she was the one sitting on the thrown. But she didn't notice, and she didn't care. Her mind was numbed with the cold, so her thoughts were slow to penetrate, and when they did penetrate she was too tired to do anything about it. At an all time low she simply stood and waited for him to do what he wanted.

"Have you no bow for the king?" the man with the brown eyes asked as he lifted his chin out of his hand and sat straight. The cup she had noticed before was lifted to his full mouth and he drank from it leisurely as he watched her.

It was his voice that finally broke through the ice. She jerked as if prodded with a hot poker then looked down at her feet. Her eyes widened hugely as she mentally slapped her forehead. So what if she failed? This was only one plan! And the first at that. How many people actually succeeded on the first try? Even Abraham Lincoln, one the greatest presidents, failed several times before he got what he wanted. So why was she giving up? She'd just have to get a new plan, figure out another way to get a hold of the book.

She'd just have to keep fighting. There was no giving up on this mission. None. If she gave up the worlds were doomed. So she'd shrug this off, crawl back up to the palace and act as if everything was normal and fine. And she'd plan, and plot and think of another way to go. There had to be another way.

With that firmly lodged into her mind she allowed her brain to process what her eyes had been seeing for quite a time. The man before her, seated in his throne, was young, nearly the same age as Claire she'd guess. He was obviously powerful, or thought himself so, why else would he sit on the throne so confidently? And people must have believed in him, why else would they be seated around him, watching him, waiting for him to give out the slightest order so they could obey.

And he was bored. With the power, or the people, maybe with his entire life. But he was bored. That was the expression on his face that she had automatically assumed was a non-expression. No, it was boredom. This young man who had everything, it seemed, was bored. He was looking for a distraction, and he had set his sights on her. Well she wouldn't give it to him, at least not in the way he wanted, if the direction his eyes were looking was any hint.

"Well? Where is your bow for the king?" his voice was overly loud, drawing attention. He sought to embarrass her, but was disappointed when no heat rose to her cheeks. Her expression remained calm, and cool. One eyebrow rose derisively as she took a long slow survey of him.

"Elvis is it? Look, he died a while ago, and though I can see the resemblance in looks to the King of Rock, you just don't have his stage presence. And besides, wooden thrones and plastic crowns don't make you royalty," Blaine cocked a hip and yawned, lifting one dainty hand to cover her mouth as she saw the man's eyes narrow, the expression in them anger. Oh, he didn't appreciate that, Blaine thought as she closed her mouth and dropped her hand so she could cross them over her chest.

"What brings you into my court, Lady Peasant?" the "King" asked. Blaine's eyes widened at the ironic title, but she didn't correct him on her position in society. It was best if no one knew who she was. If no one knew who she was, no one would know she was there. And then no word would get back to the palace that she had been out and about.

"It matters not what brought me here, only that I was too late. If you'll excuse me, I should be heading back before he discovers I'm gone," she tried to turn away, but his words stopped her.

"I'm sure I could get whatever you want for you," she turned back to him, watched his eyes lower from hers to another part of her anatomy, saw him lick his lips and snarled in disgust. "For a certain… price of course. After all, I am the King of Thieves."

"Yeah, and I'm the queen of Egypt, live on the Nile and have thousands of subjects bowing at my feet because they think me a living God. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm cutting this too close," again she tried to leave, and again his words stopped her.

"What? Are you afraid?" the King suddenly stood, stepping close to her until there was barely even breath of air between them. He was taller then she would have expected, so tall in fact that she had to tip her head back far enough that it creaked in order to meet his eyes. "Afraid I won't be as… pleasant as your last costumer?"

His hand rose and ghosted across her bruised face, light as a feather, but Blaine refused to shiver from the contact. She had always hated when men had done that to her, trying to pick her up back in New York with those butterfly touches along her skin. To prove to him it was useless she remained calm and cool and unaffected.

"What? This?" she waved a hand over her bruises then gave a dark chuckle. "Trust me, that wasn't a costumer. No, that was someone much worse. Now if you're done soliciting me for something your obviously not going to get, can I go now?"

He seemed to stare at her, bewildered. It was almost as if he had never been shot down before. She gave a smug smirk and moved off, beginning to shiver in earnest now. She had to get back, and soon. Who knew when Terry would tire and need to be returned to his rooms? He was tiring fast now, because of his frailness. They could be coming back to their rooms at any minute, they could be there now!

And if she wasn't there when they were returned…

She shuddered and tried to step past a group of people. As she was scooting behind a particularly loud table, a man pushed to his feet with a mug of ale, turned and collided with her. Blaine hissed as his elbow crunched a bruised rib but it was the cool liquid sopping down her front that had her stumbling back, hands raised.

Her eyes were huge as she stared down at the brown substance soaking into her clothes, her nostrils flared at the potent sent of alcohol that stung her senses. Oh God, she thought, stepping backwards. She would never get that smell out. She was sunk for sure. They would find out where she had been, that she had left, and in his overwhelming anger he would kill her.

"I can help you."

Startled, Blaine turned. Sitting at a table at the back of the tavern, not far from where her path out had taken her, was a man mostly in the shadow. He was watching her face, her eyes, and unlike the King, he wasn't looking for a romp in the sack. His hair was brown, graying, and his eyes were green like hers. And he was staring into her eyes as if he could read them.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, and began to ring out her shirt as she lifted an eyebrow. Maybe things were looking up for her. Maybe he really wanted to help her. It wasn't often that she accepted help from strangers in bars, or from men hiding in the shadows for that matter. But this was different. This was an emergency. "Can you?"

"Yes. It just so happens that I have the keys to nearly all the shops in the city."

"Well what are we waiting for?" she declared, stepping up to him at the table and reaching out to grab his hand. "Let's get going!"

"We're waiting for one thing," Blaine tilted her head in question, her face puzzled. "We're waiting for you to guess my name."

Blaine blew out a breath, causing her bangs to flutter and sunk into a chair next to the shadowed man. When her bloodied back hit the chair she barely batted an eye. Childishly she crossed her arms over her chest and poked out her lip at the man. "Look, Rumpelstiltskin, I've read the book. I know how the story ends. And trust me, I come out on the better end of the deal. So let's say we just skip ahead to the ending and you give me what I want? Hmm? Does that sound good?"

The man in the shadow's laughed rather annoyingly, but titled his head into the light. Blaine gasped. He was quite striking. His features were strong, almost rough, and yet about his face he had a boyish aspect that she found could be completely charming. Her shoulders that had stiffened suddenly relaxed into the chair and she felt herself drawn to this older gentleman.

She titled her head again, a soft smile playing about her mouth as her eyes squinted just the slightest. She wanted to hate him because he was making this difficult for her, but she couldn't. Instead she was softly chuckling herself, his laughter contagious.

"Tell me, my lady, who is Rumpelstiltskin?" Blaine's mouth dropped open in shock.

"You don't know who Rumpelstiltskin is? Oh. Duh," she gave a foolish little laugh. Of course he didn't know. Rumpelstiltskin was written on Earth, not here. Did Tortall even have fairy tales? Did they even have fairies? Did they even have tales! "Look, it's a long story, I don't really have the time for this and getting what I need. Do think it would be possible just to skip it? Rain check maybe?"

"You wouldn't cheat an old gentleman out of his story would you?" He gave her a fully loaded grin and Blaine felt her resolve weakened. It had been a long time since she had sat with someone and just talked, just been herself. And what was the harm of doing it tonight? He didn't know who she was. And if she did it fast…

"Alright. But I'm warning you! I'm giving you the shortened version," she shared a quiet laugh with the man and pulled her chair closer to his, leaning her head in conspiringly. With a wink she began.

"There was once a miller who was very poor and all he had in the world was a beautiful daughter.

"One day, the miller was called before the king because he had not paid his taxes. The miller had no money at all, so he told the king, 'I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.'

" 'Bring her to me then,' the king said.

"The king took the girl to a room filled with straw. 'You must spin this straw into gold by morning, or you will be punished,' he said. Then he locked the door.

"The poor girl—"

"Wait wait wait!" The man interrupted with a lifted hand. Blaine pulled up from her slouch and looked at him confused. What had she done wrong? It wasn't like he knew the story and she had told something other then how he had heard it before.

"What is it?" she demanded, looking quite offended that he had interrupted her story. She had truly been getting into it. How could she have forgotten her love for story telling? She could remember now, back to when she had been a child star, sitting around the dressing room with her hired friends, telling stories just like these to them. It was good, she thought, awaiting the man's answer, to remember back to those old days, to bring them to life now, even if she was stripping this story of everything but the bare essentials.

"What does this have to do with you guessing my name?" Blaine gave him a glare. Was that it? What an impatient little twerp. And she told him just that, laughingly. After they had quieted, she gave him a tiny, tentative shove on his shoulder. "Just hold your horses, will you? I'm getting to it! Now… where was I? Ah… yes I remember.

"The poor girl had no idea how to spin straw into gold. She threw herself on the floor and wept.

"Suddenly, the door opened and an odd little man walked in. 'Good evening, mistress miller. Why are you crying?' he asked.

" 'I'm supposed to spin this straw into gold, but I don't know how,' she sobbed.

" 'What will you give me if I spin it for you?' asked the little man.

"The girl gave him her necklace and the little man sat down at the spinning wheel. By the morning, all the straw had been spun into gold.

"When the king saw the room full of gold, he became even more greedy. He took the girl to a bigger room filled with even more straw and ordered her to spin it into gold.

"That night, the little man found the girl crying again. This time, he agreed to spin the straw into gold in return for her gold ring.

"When the king saw so much gold, he became greedier still. He locked the girl into a huge room packed to the rafters with straw. 'If you spin this into gold by morning, you will be my wife,' he said.

"That night the little man returned. But the girl had nothing left to give him. 'Then when you marry, you must give me your first child,' he said.

"The girl could not think of another solution and agreed.

"The next day, the king found to his pleasure that the huge room was filled with gold. As he had promised, he had married the miller's daughter and made her queen.

"A year later, the new queen had a baby daughter.

"The queen forgot completely about the little man. But one day he appeared, and said, 'Now you must give me what you promised.'

"The queen offered him all sorts of treasures if she could keep the child, but he refused. 'Something alive is more important to me then all the riches in the world,' he said.

"At that, the queen burst into tears. Finally, the little man said, 'I will give you three days to guess my name. If you succeed, you may keep the child,' "

"There it is. I wondered when the similarities would come in," Blaine gave the man a sharp look, then continued with her story.

"The queen spent the whole night making a long list of all the names she had ever heard.

"The next day, she read all the names to the little man, beginning with Abraham. But to each one, he replied, 'No, that's not my name.'

"The following day, the queen sent out messengers all through the town.

" 'Bring me every name you can find,' she told them.

"The messengers brought back some very odd names, such as Ribsofbeef and Muttonchop. But to each one the little man replied, 'That's not my name.'

"By the third day, the queen was desperate. She sent out her messengers again to search the whole kingdom for any names they might have missed.

"At nightfall, the last messenger returned with a strange tale. 'As I was passing through the forest, I saw an odd little man, dancing around a fire,' he told the queen. 'He was singing: The queen will never win this game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name!'

"That night, the queen asked the little man, 'Is your name Alfalfa?'

" 'No, that's not my name,' he said.

" 'Is your name Zebulon?' she asked.

" 'No that's not my name,' the little man replied.

" 'Could it be Rumpelstiltskin?' the queen asked at last.

"When he heard this, the little man was so angry that his face turned blue, and he stamped his foot so hard that it broke right through the floor.

"Then the little man disappeared into the hole and was never seen again.

"After that, the king and queen and their little daughter lived happily ever after.

"So you see, I shall win, no matter what. And you shall disappear never to be seen again. You don't want that do you?" she continued before he could answer. "No, I can see you don't. So stop all this foolishness and give me what I need."

"Ah but you see, I won't be singing and dancing around a fire, telling my name aloud to any one who happens to pass by and hear. It's up to you to guess it. And besides, I'm still uncertain of exactly what you want.

"Well, …Bob?" he shook his head no, and Blaine sighed before continuing. Oddly, she felt comfortable around this man, despite the fact that she had no idea who he was. "I'm sure you've noticed the bruises on my face, and the ones around my neck, have you not?" when he nodded his head, Blaine slipped easily into a lie. "Well you see, I'm quite tired of it, and I'd rather it stopped. So, I'm planning on running away. And I need a disguise. A good one. So I ran here tonight, while he was otherwise occupied to buy a wig and maybe some clothes at that, so I could make my escape."

"Did you now? And you're certain this will work?"

"Yes, Jonathan—"

"No, try again."

"I'm quite certain it will work. I'm very good at disguises," she gave him a cocky smirk.

"Well, what kind of wig do you want?"

"I'd like a black one, preferably with straight hair. Quite the opposite of mine, wouldn't you say so, Mark?"

He shook his head no again, then looked up when a man stepped to their table. Blaine recognized him as the bartender. She gave him a friendly grin.

"You're still here? I thought you left an hour ago," he gave her a nice smile in return. But he frowned when her hand gripped his forearm, hard.

"An hour?" she stuttered, her eyes wide and frightened. "I've been here an hour?"

"Yes, an hour at least. Possibly more. Why?"

"Oh crap! CRAP! I have to go! Oh no, I can't I need that wig. But I can't stay. I'm sorry, sir, but I have to go. If he knew… oh god please, let him still be gone! Please! Be gone still!"

With that, Blaine turned and dashed out of the tavern, heading back to the palace as fast as she could.

Once she was gone, the bartender turned to the man in the shadows. "Is there anything else I can get for you, George?"

"No, I think that'll be all. I need to go get something, in return for a lovely story I was just told. Give the King my regards, will you?"

The bartender nodded, and with that, the former King of Thieves stood and slipped into the night.

A/N So there you have it! All of you on the alert list who get an e-mail when I update? You should all review! I mean it! I except at least five reviews! FIVE! Okay, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	21. Ch 20 Healed

A/N Hey guys. Here you go. School's started up for me and my schedule's tight. So I won't have as much time, or motivation for that matter, to write. So I'll try to get the next chapter out by next monday, but if it's not up, that's why. Okay, so enjoy and please Review. Because review's will up the motivation.

Chapter Twenty: Healed

"Get up!" Blaine, who had once struggled mightily to fight of sleep in the mornings, came awake with a snap. Automatically she sat up, swung her legs out of bed, and stood, shivering as her bare feet touched the frozen stones of the ground. When would they invent carpet, she wondered as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and focused on her brother and her fiancé.

Quietly she pulled her nightgown down from where it had caught on her thigh, straightening it would a light tug. She smoothed her hands across the front of it once before dropping her hands to her sides, demurely lifting her head, and looking straight ahead. From the silence in the room, one would assume the three people had nothing to say to each other. But from the mounting tension in the girl, one could begin to see it differently.

She stood straight, proud, unshaken under the scrutiny of the two men, watching her from not two feet away. Their eyes practically crawled across her body, examining every part of her as she stared straight ahead at the door between them. An outsider would think she was patiently waiting for them to finish. But on the inside she had already imagined herself ripping open the door, tearing through the halls as she ran as fast as she could to into Darren's arms so he could protect her and save her. There she rested, her head nestled against his chest, her body held strong and sure as he took over her worries. Oh how she wished she could truly go there.

"What's that smell?" Lord Rhys asked, pulling her from her daydream, from Darren's arms until she was standing again in this dreaded room. Blaine gave a curious sniff and had to use all her strength to keep from cringing.

Ale.

She stunk of ale.

The crap is going to hit the fan now, Blaine thought and realized she had to scramble and think, lightening fast, if she wanted an umbrella to keep out of the rainfall. Her mind whirled as her body went from tensing up, to so taut one touch and she might break. Every muscle strained and pulled tight, ready to run at the slightest provocation. But she wouldn't run, couldn't, had nowhere to run too.

"Yes, what is that?" Blaine wanted to close her eyes and pray as Terry began to sniff as well, leaning closer to Blaine as his nose searched. "Whatever it is, it's coming from you, dear sister."

Her silence, she knew it was damning, but what could she say? She wanted to fall to the floor, bang her fists and on the ground and scream out her frustration. So careful! She had been so careful going into town. God, so careful. And then, God, she had been so lucky to get back before they did. So lucky. And now, now, thanks to that stupid, careless, inconsiderate imbecile back at the tavern, it would all crash down on her.

She could see her doom, almost as if it was tangible thing, as it closed around her. Lord Rhys was leaning in for a sniff now, and looking into his face she saw the instant he realized what it was.

"You stink of mead. Have you been out drinking, little Princess? We can't have that can we?"

Blaine wanted to whimper and crawl away when she saw _him_ lift his hand to strike her, but she had a plan, a good one, now lodged firmly into her mind. "Don't! I can explain! Last night, while you two were away, I was… I was just so hungry. I thought I would puke I was so hungry. So I slipped into the kitchens for food. One of the servants there, he…," she paused, licking her lips nervously, her eyes shifting from side to side, then she looked up at them, "He was drunk! And he… he spilled his drink on me! That's what happened, I swear!" she started to wring her hands, giving the impression that she was nervous, which she should be, and which she was. She had broken the rules, disobeyed.

"You went with this?" Lord Rhys reached out and touched her face, the side that was bruised. She winced and pulled back, before hastily spitting out words.

"I gave them coins!" she shouted, and tried to back away. But the backs of her knees were pressed against her bed already, a bed that was pushed up against the wall. There was nowhere for her to go. "I paid them for their silence. No will know I was there, or about the bruises!"

"Hmm, yes, that was good of you, to pay for the silence," Lord Rhys gave a wicked little smile and turned to Terry. The two exchanged knowing glances. "However, you did not ask our permission to leave the room, nor to spend you coins. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished."

Again she cringed when _he_ lifted his hand and again she interrupted. "Wait! You can't!"

"Can't I?"

"No! People are getting suspicious," she saw him raise his eyebrows in question. She licked her lips again, wiped her sweating palms across her thighs and continued. "Look, these people at the palace, they know me! They know something's up. I heard Merric yesterday banging on the door, demanding I come out. And twice now Darren has been by. They know something's wrong. They _know_!"

"We've told them that you're sick."

Blaine shook her head, adamantly. "They don't believe it. In the past, whenever I was sick, on those few occasions, I didn't whimper and shrink into my bed, hiding. I usually pretended I was fine. You couldn't get me into a sickbed with a ten-foot pole. They _know_ something's wrong."

"And just what are we supposed to do about that?"

"Take me into the city to get healed," she hurried on when she saw the rejection on his face. "Just my face! Just get my face healed so I can go back out in public. If you don't, if I stay hidden away for even just one more day, people will ask questions! They'll inquire into what's really going on. They'll take me away, to a safe place. Do you want that? I can see that you don't. You have to take me into the city. You _have_ too."

"We don't _have_ to do anything. All we _have_ to do is keep from getting caught. And in light of that, all right, we'll take you into the city. Get dressed. I want you in a plain dress and a plain cloak."

Once the door had closed behind the two hated figures, Blaine allowed her trembling legs to fold, allowed her body to fall weakly into the support of the bed. Her breathing shuddered out and she felt herself go gooey with relief.

She had to squash a bubble of hysterical laughter as she rubbed her quivering hands over her face, yelping when she bumped bruises. God, that had been scary, she thought, simply sitting and breathing, glad to be alive. With him standing right there, the power to turn and beat the life out of her at any second running through him, she had dared to defy him. And she had escaped on scathed. This time.

"Best not the chance that again," she whispered and, finally steady once more, pushed off her bed to find the least elaborate dress in her armoire.

(**PAGE BREAK**)

Blaine hugged the cloak tight around her, her head down against a gusty wind. Clouds had rolled across the sky early that morning and now it seemed like it was going to rain. Early September, Blaine thought, shivering, and already fall was in full swing. Was it just her, or was this fall extra cold?

"This way!" Lord Rhys spoke loudly, over the roaring wind. Blaine looked at his as he pointed. "I see a sign for healers."

The house was cozy, almost welcoming. She could see the windows, brightly lit with candles, beckoning her in. Blaine just knew it would be warm in there. Rubbing her hands across her upper arms in hope that the friction would create warmth, Blaine stepped through the gate that led into the tiny lawn of the healer's house. A small cobble path led to the front door.

As she stepped along the smooth, polished path up to the house, Blaine spotted a garden in the far right corner of the tiny yard. It was well kept, almost flourishing, compared to the city that surrounded it. The healer must be a woman, she decided.

About midway up the path to the door, Blaine heard it open, heard laughter and conversation spilling out. Her head lifted up from where she had been watched her feet, eyes looked up at the door, and her entire body stopped moving when green eyes met green.

As her body froze with panic, she saw the moment recognition flickered into life in his eyes. How was this happening, she demanded, her shoulders hunching, caving in on herself. Why was the happening? Was the whole entire world out to get her?

She saw the man start to open his mouth—Oh God he was going to talk to her! He would blow her cover right out of the water. She gave a subtle shake of her head, her eyes wide, pleading with him. If she could have, she would have dropped to her knees and begged. Instead, she silently prayed her eyes portrayed the message.

"Blaine, what are you doing!" a sharp jab in her back got her walking again, but she felt with every step as if she was walking one step closer to her doom.

The man, the one from the shadows that she had shared a story with, stood in the doorway, watching her, confused. But he had gotten the message in her eyes it seemed, for he didn't say anything.

When her feet began to climb the steps that lead into the house, the man stepped back to the side, and yelled into the depths of the warm home, "Mother, you've got another costumer."

Then he turned back to her, with a smile. "Welcome! You here for a healing?"

"That would be the most obvious choice, yes," came Lord Rhys's sharp retort. Blaine winced.

"Right. Of course. Which one of you is it?" Blaine took a hasty step forward. "Very good then, this way. I'll lead you back."

With his hand pressed firmly into her shoulder, Blaine was propelled from the waiting room without another word, which she was thankful for. She almost sighed with relief when she was placed into what seemed to be the healing room. The man from the shadows led her over to a cot and she took a hesitant seat. God she hated healers.

Being from Earth, she wasn't one for magic. But she had learned to tolerate it because it was a part of everyday life. And she _could_ tolerate it. When it didn't involve her. Having it used on her? Now that was different story.

"So, it seems you didn't make your escape."

"What?" Blaine looked up at the man trying to make sense of his words. What was he talking about? What escape? Oh, yes, she remembered now. She had told him she needed the wig because she had been trying to escape. "No. Please!"

She gripped his hand, harder then necessary. But with the nervous sweat that was coating her palms, she was afraid that if she didn't grip hard he would be lost. Looking up into his eyes, she pleaded once more with them. "You can't say anything about last night! Not a word!"

"Easy, Princess, easy!" the man squeezed her hand back, patted it reassuringly, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. "I won't say anything. I'm not that dumb. Ah! Here's the lady now!"

Blaine looked over as the door to her room swung open and an aging woman walked through the door. Immediately, Blaine saw the resemblance. She had to be this man's mother; their features were far too alike.

"Hello, dear. Oh! I can see why you're here," she gave an easy smile, bustled into the room and grabbed Blaine's hand out of her son's. She gave it a pat, a squeeze, then lowered Blaine down onto the bed.

"George! Where did you find this pretty little thing? And where's your wife?" Blaine sat and tensed as the healer's hand smoothed across her face. She almost grinned, however, when said man—George apparently—grabbed her hand out of her mother's and also gave it a pat and a squeeze.

"She found me, mum. Poor dear's in love with me. Aren't you, lovely?" He smiled down at her. Then gave her hand another little pat.

"What does your wife think of that?"

"Quite pleased," He gave a wicked grin. "You know Alanna. Make sure to get those bruises around her neck, mum."

Blaine's eyes widened as she watched the hands pass over her eyes. They were old, aged. She could see the lines on them that spoke of work. But they were beautiful, well cared for. This woman's hands were her life, her living, her magic. And it showed. Words passed over her, the calm bantering of family, as Blaine stared at those hands. Suddenly, she wasn't so afraid of healings.

"Okay, over onto your back now, Princess Dear, so mum can heal those welts," their voices had become so calming that she had nearly forgotten where she was. As once again her hand was switched from son to mother, a prod in the side had her rolling over.

"Alright, Princess, mum needs to undo the dress so she can see the extent of damage to your back," Blaine felt the strings at the back of her dress, the ones that kept it together, being pulled free. Her hand was switched back from mother to son.

"Wait—"

"Don't worry, I'm not looking, I promise. Your womanly modesty is safe!" he squeezed her hand seeing as he couldn't pat it. His other hand was covering his charming green eyes.

"You can't—"

"I'm not! I swear I'm not looking," he squeezed again as she felt his mother's hands smooth down her aching back. Contrary to his words, George peeked. And he admitted to himself, though he didn't want to. It was bad. Real bad.

He could see hundreds of welts, in different stages of healing. Some were worse then others, some better. But it was obvious to him that this hadn't been a onetime thing. Although, the first time was fairly recent as there weren't any scars. There would be though, if his mother didn't work her magic soon.

"You can't… look you don't underst—"

"Alright! I admit it, I looked. But can you blame me? You're just such a pretty one," she was starting to struggle now, really struggle. He passed the hand to his mother, grabbed her shoulders and pressed down. "You have to hold still now, love. Otherwise Mum can't heal you. You want to be healed, don't you?"

"I promised! I promised only my face! You have to stop! Stop!" she was trying so hard to get them off, but that woman's magic hands were soothing over her back, over her wounds, and it stung at first, nearly as bad as the original wounds did, but then it was all cool, numb, like the ice that lived inside her had finally manifested into something real, and was taking away her pain.

As sweet relief swelled across her she whimpered. She began to shiver, almost feeling guilty because of the fact that her pain was being alleviated. Was she allowed to feel this way? Was she allowed to be healed like this, to feel a moment without… aching? Was she allowed—

Her thoughts stopped as a deep realization hit.

What were they doing to her? Were they trying to brainwash her? Since when did she have to do what they told her do to? Yes, she followed the rules, _their_ rules, but that was to fly under the radar. She followed their rules because it was safer, and at most times, more convenient that way. Sure the bruises hurt. But they would hurt more if she didn't follow the rules.

But since when, did she _have_ to follow them? Since when did she _have_ to have their permission to do something? Since when had she stopped being independent, had stopped thinking, had stopped having a mind of her own? Since when had she stopped being independent?

Well, she didn't know when it had started. But now was the time it would stop. With a sharp nod, she stopped struggling and settled in and allowed herself to be healed. To hell with them. It was her body, wasn't it?

"There's a good girl, just lie still now and it'll be over soon," her hand was once again passed to George, and she turned her head to the side so she could look up at him. "I meant to thank you for the story last night, but you left rather quickly. Tell me, where did you hear that story?"

As the healing moved into it's final stages, Blaine felt her eyes drooping. Healings usually made her a little sleepy. But as she felt herself wanting to pass out from exhaustion, she tried to worry. "It's a very popular nursery rhyme back in America."

"America? Is that in Tusaine?" Her eyes were fluttering closed as the skin on her back healed completely. Sleep seemed like a good idea right now. A very good idea.

"Something like that…" she whispered and drifted off.

George smiled at her. She was such a cute little thing, the way she tried to be so tough all the time. He gently placed her hand down by her side as his mother laced her dress back together over the newly healed skin.

"You were right, it was bad," his mother looked up at him with the same green eyes, the same worried expression in them. "George, is this really the Princess of Tusaine?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. She matches Alanna's description perfectly. This is definitely the princess. Why?" he looked up as his hand smoothed over the Princess's hair. Such a young thing, to be going through so much. And alone. He wished he could help. Maybe he'd speak to her about it when she awoke.

"I'm worried for her, George. Not only just because of the welts. There was more. This girl… she has a history of abuse. A terrible one. And she's a Princess. She is an object of power. You know what that means?"

George looked back down at the sleeping beauty and nodded. He patted her shoulder before turning his eyes up to his mother. "I know what it means. I'm going to offer her my help when she wakes. You go explain to the men out in the waiting room why you healed all her wounds when she told you not too."

"Alright. She should be asleep for another ten minutes, though. It took a lot out of her to heal so much," She patted George's cheek affectionately, then left the room. The soft click of the door closing had Blaine jerking upright in the bed.

She rubbed at her tired eyes as she turned onto her back and sat up. George pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed, grabbing Blaine's hand once again. She gave him a cheeky smile.

"Is there something particularly appealing about my hand? Or do you just feel like holding it?" she watched him look down at the hand he was holding, then give a boyish grin.

"Your skins soft. Plus, you look as if you need a kind touch." Blaine gave him a beautiful smile, touched that he would be so kind. There was something special about this man. Whoever had snatched him up was lucky to have him. She squeezed his hand in thanks. "Princess, I want to help you. I want to help you get out."

And just as quick she jerked it out of his grasp.

"I can protect you!" he tried to grab for her hand again, but she whipped them behind her back. What had she been doing? How could she do this to a stranger? She had sucked him into her world, and now… now he was getting ideas. Ideas that shouldn't be in his head. Because they would only hurt him. "I know people, in the palace, and in the city. I can get you out. I can take you to my home. My family and I, we can shelter you, we can keep you safe. Let me help you!"

"I think I should leave," quietly, she stood from the bed she had been placed on. She grabbed her cloak from where George's mother had hung it on a hook against the wall.

"That's it?" she looked up at him as she slowly swung the cloak across her shoulders. "You'll accept my help as long as I don't hit too close? But as soon as I do, you're just going to back out?"

Meticulously she tied the ties on her cloak, then slowly looked up and met his eyes. "There are things about this that you don't understand, George. Things that I can't explain. I need to leave now. Excuse me."

"So that's it? That's really it? You're just going to stay with him? He'll kill you! One day, he'll kill you. And you're just going to let him?" George stood and moved to block the door. He wanted answers. Now. And he wasn't letting her leave until he understood why she wouldn't accept his help. Or until she caved.

"I don't have a choice. Move away from the door," God, this was so hard! She had really liked George, really liked him. She had connected with him, had felt like she didn't need to fall into a character around him. She had been herself.

And now she had to deceive him.

But she could do it. She had to. Because that is what she did. She was a woman of many masks, and now she'd have to pull one on, to push him away, keep him out of danger. Even in she hated the fact that she had to lie to him even more then before, she had to do it. Because that was part of the mission. And the mission came before everything.

"You _do_ have a choice! I'm giving you that choice! Princess, accept my help. Please," he grabbed her hand now, both of them. His eyes were pleading with her. And she could see concern in them, genuine concern. For her. And it hurt, so much.

"I can't," her eyes were beginning to well with tears, and she tried pulling her hand from his so he wouldn't feel the fine trembles in them. "I can't. Don't you see?"

But he didn't. Of course he didn't. He didn't know about the mission. Not the way she did. He didn't know that she wasn't in this abusive relationship because she had to be, but because she couldn't leave. He didn't know that she wasn't a weak female who was emotionally trapped by _him_. He didn't _know_ that she was strong enough to do it by herself.

"No, I don't see. Tell me why! Blaine," he dropped her hands and grabbed her shoulders, squeezing tight. "Tell me why."

"Because they have something of mine!" she burst out, then wished she could eat her words. She was mentally kicking herself, quite hard at that, when George next spoke.

"Tell me what it is. I'll steal it for you."

"God!" she hissed and pulled away from him. "What did I do to get you so attached to me? You're like those incessant fan boys that follow my entire career for years and look up doctored naked pictures of me online. I'm not who you think I am George. That person… that you saw last night, and the person you see now, they're not real! I'm not real George. Everything I do, everything I say, is because that's what people expect me to see, want to see. And I give it to them. I gave it to you. But I can't today. I have to be what they want from me. And that person can't accept your help. You can't help me, George!"

She turned back to him after she had paced several feet away. She had to make him understand. Had to make him let her go. He would only get hurt if he associated with her. And she didn't want him to be hurt. She so badly didn't want him to be hurt.

"I don't believe you, Princess. That was a weak excuse, a weak attempt to get rid of me. And it won't work. Let me help you," he started to step towards her, but she pushed her hands out to stop him from coming any closer.

She looked up into his eyes, a mistake. She knew it was a mistake the moment their green orbs met. Inside them she could see earnest feeling shinning out. Feelings for her. And she felt like a dog. Worse then a dog. Like a slug. Worse then a slug. Like fungus.

"God, I'm even _worse_ than fungus!" he cared for her, _really_ cared. George cared for her the way Darren cared for her. And even though she had only met him yesterday, she knew it was true. Suddenly, it was as hard to lie to him as it was to lie to Darren. It was best, she knew, to tell him the truth now. "George, I'm… I'm a horrible person and you don't deserve to get what I'm going to give you. Please, just leave me alone."

"Don't say that about yourself. You're not a horrible person. That's him talking. Please, just tell me what it is you need and I'll steal it for you. Then you can get away. Let me help you get away."

"No," What are you doing Blaine? She wanted to slap herself in the forehead. This wasn't like her. She knew what she wanted. What she had to do. Now she'd get it. "You're not understanding me George." She'd get what she wanted. Even if she had to crush his feelings to do it.

"You're right. I don't. Why won't you let me help?"

"It's not that I won't let you help me. It's that I can't, George. This is something I have to do on my own. If you want to help me, help me find a way to get it back."

With that, Blaine brushed past George and out the door.


	22. Ch 21 Golden

A/N Here you all are! I hope you enjoy it! I worked real hard on it, so I expect good reviews. Please.

Chapter Twenty-One: Golden

Merric was at Blaine's door early the next morning. It was his insistent knocking that had her pulling on breeches and a shirt and stalking to the door. Lord Rhys and Terry were both out. They had been called away during the night for something; she hadn't been awake enough to hear all that was being said. But they hadn't come back yet and she was glad for that.

As she rubbed sleepily at her eye she pulled the door open and glared at the man standing behind it. She was tempted to slam the door in his face, was even beginning too, when he stepped inside.

"Is your fiancé or brother here? I'd like to talk to them about your training schedule for the remainder of your time here," Merric was standing formally, legs braced, hadns folded behind his back, military style almost. Blaine looked at him, puzzled. What was he being so stiff about?

"Both are out on official royal business. But I can tell you right now their answer will be no."

"I'd prefer it if I ask them myself, if you don't mind. Shall I wait in here?" Merric moved further into the room, his back to her. He walked to the window, clasped his hands behind his back again and stared out at the courtyard. Blaine was reminded of an army general come to call. What was she to do with him? Get him out, that was what she was going to do with him!

"In fact, I do mind, Peasant. I think it best that you leave. I'm not allowed to have guests an—"

"I'm sure this one time won't matter." Merric turned to her, his face hard. But this one time _would_ matter. Hadn't she challenged their authority just yesterday? Once was a miracle. Twice was highly unlikely. Two days in a row? Impossible. She had to get him out.

"It will matter. You need to leave," catching him off guard, Blaine grabbed his arm and began to propel him towards the door. She got him half way there before he realized what she was doing and dug his heels in.

"I know you don't like me right now, Princess—"

"That's the understatement of the century," Blaine snorted and managed to drag Merric about two feet closer to the door before he gave her a warning look and stopped again.

"I know you don't like me very much, but you're my squire. And as your knight master, I have to fulfill a duty and to do that—"

"Yeah yeah yeah! I get it!" she gave him a quick push that got his feet moving towards the door. "You're feeling guilty because of the fact that I haven't officially trained in a while. But you know what? It doesn't matter. I relieve you of all guilt! So go!"

"I'm not leaving until I speak to your guardians. I'm not leaving until I get permission to start your training again."

"Well that's just too bad," Blaine, who had finally gotten Merric to the door, reached behind him and opened it. "Because you're leaving. I thought I made it perfectly clear the other day that I want nothing to do with you, nothing at all. That includes training to become a knight. Now, I explained to you already that I'm not allowed to have visitors so—"

"That's right you're not!" Because Merric was facing Blaine when Lord Rhys's voice burst into the room, he saw the fear that sparked in her eyes, turned them a glassy bright green before she struggled it under a blank mask.

As the two intimidating figures advanced on her, Blaine forgot completely that Merric was even there. And then he wasn't there. Terry pushed him out the door and locked it behind him. Then, slowly, deviously, he turned back to her, and the look in his eyes had her mouth falling open and words spilling out.

"I told him not to come in. I told him not to! I swear I did! I swear! I tried to keep him out, but he pushed past me. I was confused, tired, I didn't know when you guys were coming back. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please it wasn't my fault. He came in without invitation. He wanted to ask if he could take me out to train. I told him no. I told him you would say no. I told him to leave! I was trying to get him to leave but he wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't listen. Please, it wasn't… please!"

She knew she was babbling, pleading, practically begging on her knees in front of them both. But if that kept _him_ from hitting her, she'd beg on her knees for the rest of her life. In that moment, with Merric likely standing at the door just feet away from where she was standing, she would beg.

And Merric was standing there, his ear pressed to the door, disgusted. He could hear what the Princess was saying and it made him sick. Not only had she lived up to all the bad things he had expected from her, but she had become so much more. And not in a good way.

He could see her now, on her knees, her hands folded in front of her, lifted up in plea. She was probably using her big green eyes to tear at their hearts, but would it work? Probably not. She was a princess, and a future knight at that. The least she could do is suck it up and take her punishment like an honorable person would. With integrity. And what would they do about it? Take away her wandering privileges? Make her stay in her room some more? What was so scary about that?

A sudden silence in the room made him stop his thoughts. He pressed his ear closer to the door. He could hear movements, was that… weeping? And words, mumbled, so quiet he couldn't make them out, or who was saying it. But he could hear a voice, and he could hear the tone. And he didn't like that tone.

What was that? He pushed harder against the door, bringing his hands up as a brace, trying to hear what was going on. Blaine was speaking again, more begging? She was probably pleading not to be forced to stay in her room anymore.

"No!" the scream had him jumping back from it in shock, the fine hairs on his arms stand up as acid pooled in his stomach. His breathing was heavy as he stared at the door, stared at it hard, struggling to see through the wood, knowing it was impossible.

What had been that scream? What was going on behind that door? What were they doing to her inside that room? Only one way to find out.

Pressing his ear back to the door, he stilled his racing heart and his huffing breath in order to hear past it and into the room. Once the level of silence inside himself had reached the right point that he could hear inside the room, he knew unmistakably what was happening inside.

With a shout he pushed off the door for a second time and began pounding on it with his fists, demanding that it be opened so he could get inside. How could he have ignored the fact that someone had beat the Princess just two days before? That it was almost completely certain it was her fiancé that had done it.

Why had he ignored it, how could he have forgotten. How… how… how…

Guilt overwhelmed him as he continued to pound on the door. Was that wood splintering under his palms? Was the door cracking under his palms? God, was he still hitting her? How badly was she hurt? Was it worse then last time?

"For the sake of the Gods! Open this door!" Merric bellowed, his vision graying at the corners. If he hurt her, or if he broke anything on her, or if he killed… he couldn't think of that. Gods, just the thought of it made his heart shudder in pain. He had to get her out. He had to take her away from the pain.

He had to save her.

"Open this door right now! Open it!" He lifted his fist to bang again when the door opened up and a winded Terry stood before him in the doorway. He barely glanced at him; instead his eyes went past, searching the room. Where was she? How badly was she hurt?

When he saw her, he thought his knees would melt with the relief that washed through him. She wasn't dead. No, she was fully alive, and in pain. God… that look on her face.

She was using her eyes, just like he had thought. And, yes, she was pleading with them. But the message he had imagined in them, and the message that he actually saw, were two completely different things. He had to get her away from these people. And he had to do it now.

"I've arranged to have a training court for personal use today," Merric began, looking away from where Blaine lay quivering on the floor. He focused instead on her fiancé and brother, battling his anger under control. "Since Blaine's Chamber of Ordeal test is within months, I thought it best that we start training now, so she may survive the chamber and become a true knight."

Merric watched as Lord Rhys began to protest; he could see in the man's evil face that that was exactly what he was going to do. But with the slightest of hand gestures, King Terry cut him off mid-breath.

"That would be fine, Sir Merric. Please see that my dear sister is returned to us by night fall, if you can," Merric simply nodded, walked into the room and lifted Blaine with one hand. He kept his arm around her waist as he took her out of the room, her body quivering the entire way.

Blaine, who had heard the entire conversation but could make no sense of it whatsoever, leaned heavily against Merric as he walked her out of the room and down the hallways.

She could feel tears welling in her throat, and tried to swallow them back. Of all the things in the world she hadn't wanted Merric to see, this would have to be on the top of the list. This was the second time he had caught evidence of her abuse. And she hated it.

Because as a knight he felt obligated to help. And as a woman who was virtually powerless, she was obligated to accept it. Plus, she was so tired of being so strong, always so strong. And always on her own. She always stood on her own two feet, never leaning against anyone, though they were there, and she gladly would have leaned against some.

She was just so tired of being alone.

So, as she walked beside Merric down the stone corridor, her body and sole aching with different pains, she let her chin fall to her chest, and pretended she didn't realize their were fat wet tears running down her face.

It was the sniffling that gave her away. Merric would have continued to walk all the way to the training courts without another word being said about what he had seen. He was fairly sure that of all the emotions she was feeling, embarrassment would be at the top of the list.

Wouldn't he be embarrassed if he were in her position? She was princess, for the Gods sakes. And though princesses didn't exactly get the best lots in life, they also didn't get abusive husbands. And if they did, with the way woman's rights had progressed over the years, she wouldn't have to stand for it. She could go to a woman's temple and they would take her in, keep her safe. Maybe he would take her there.

Then he heard her sniff. One quick glance and he could see the tears running silently down her face. It didn't take a genius to know that these were different tears then the ones she had displayed to him before. These were different even then the tears she had expressed just the other day in the healing ward. No, these were… more real.

It was the way she tried to hide them, by putting her chin down so the hair would cover her face. She was trying to hide them without being obvious that she was doing so. And the way she did it so quietly, almost completely silent, hurt him. Women were supposed to sob when they cried, they were supposed to throw things and yell and scream, they were supposed to let out the emotions.

They weren't supposed to be all-quiet about it, going unnoticed so it ripped his heart out by the seams. He hated it when women cried like that. It made him feel powerless.

"Hey, come now, Princess, it's not that bad," he stopped in the middle of the hall and turned towards her, gently closing his arms around her, still hesitant on how she should react. He'd never… hugged her before. Or… tried to comfort her. For that matter, he had never really rescued her either.

Besides that night four years ago when she had confessed the truth about Chris to him, this was the closest he had ever been to her. So, he was a little hesitant.

But when his arms closed around her, it felt right. Something deep in his heart fell into place, and he wondered why he hadn't ever done this before. She was so warm, her body like a furnace in his arms. And she felt so small, so delicate, he wanted to wrap her up and protect her from the entire world. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her closer, crushing her to him, bending his head down and touching his lips to her head. It all just felt so right.

And then he knew it was.

Blaine wrapped her arms around his back, and brought them up to grab his shoulders, bunching the material of his shirt there in tight fists. Her nose sought out the space where his shoulder and his neck met, the groove there, and she pressed her face there, breathing in his scent. She felt her heart leaping with emotions she thought had died along with her so many years ago.

And standing in his arms like this, feeling him holding her just as tight back, for a moment she didn't fight those emotions. She let them flare up inside her, hot and wild like a forest fire that burned through the land uncontrolled. For a moment she felt, genuine and true. For a moment she earned, for everything and more.

For a moment she loved.

Merric wanted to protest when Blaine pulled away from him, taking her warmth with her, but without her in his arms, all the things he had felt so strongly were now rationalized by something else.

Duty.

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the feelings that had been ruling his mind. Unbeknown to him, Blaine was doing the same beside him. What had she been thinking? Those…things she had felt weren't real. How could they be real? He was the man that gave away her books! He was the man that was making everything ten times harder than it needed to be. He was the one that was ruining her mission. She shouldn't be feeling those things for him. She wasn't feeling them. She wasn't!

However, it was getting harder to believe that Merric was such a bad person when he had just tried to comfort her like that. And she hadn't even asked him too! She could have walked the whole way to the training court, crying silently, feeling sorry for herself, and she would have been perfectly fine. Merric could have looked at her tears, been uncomfortable with them, and looked back away and continued to walk, and she would have been perfectly fine. She would have expected it of him. He was a man, and with the few exceptions, Darren being one of them, men didn't do well with tears.

But instead of ignoring her tears, he had tried to comfort her. And that was what had made all those emotions come to the surface. Maybe… maybe Merric wasn't such a bad person, after all. Maybe… maybe they could… get along? That didn't mean they had to be close! She assured herself of that rather quickly. No, it simply meant that they didn't have to argue about everything.

"I think we had best get to the training courts," Merric said awkwardly and looked down at her. She was watching him with those great green eyes of hers, the emotions in them timid, but strong. Again he felt that click in his heart, like another piece of it had fallen into place. He felt his face heat with a blush.

"Right, we best. Let's go," she turned away from him, hiding a giggle with her hand as she saw his cheeks go rosy, and headed off, with him quick on her heels. It was several steps before he tried conversation again.

"He didn't—"

"No," she whispered before he had even finished the question. But she knew what he had been about to ask, she had been anticipating it. What could someone ask after seeing what he had seen? There was really only one question. He hadn't beaten you too badly, had he? How was she supposed to respond to that? No, he just roughed me up enough that it hurts to breath? That there would definitely be bruises tomorrow? There was no way too respond without being completely obvious about the fact that she was being beaten. And even though both of them knew about it now, it was best if it remained unspoken.

"You're okay to train—"

"Yes," she glanced quickly up at him and wanted to curse, but sighed instead. He was just being a good person, worrying like that for her. She should thank him, not be frustrated by it. But it was hard. She didn't like people nosing into her business, and that's what Merric was doing, even if he didn't realize it.

"Alright then, I won't go easy on you," he warned and gave her a teasing grin, a challenge half in his eyes as he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair. Her lips returned the smile before she even thought about it. And it felt good, to smile. When was the last time she had done that?

"Challenge excepted, then, Sir Merric!" with a lofty step she pushed open the doors to the training courts and waltzed in. Humming a little tune she walked over to the bucket of practice weapons near to the training ring and peeked in. Swords. It'd been a while since she'd trained with swords. Although she hadn't given up all her training—she still did certain floor exercises and little things she could do in her room without _him_ knowing about it—she hadn't officially trained for a long time.

"Princess Blaine!" the shout startled her so bad, when she jumped and turned around to face her attacker, she knocked the bucket over and the practice swords spilled out. One hand fisted over her racing heart while the other jumped out in front of her palm out, as if to ward them off.

Big frightened green eyes expected to see the man she hated so much looming out of the shadows, come to fetch her back to the hell that existed inside her rooms. But instead, they rested, uncomprehending, on a woman a little older then herself. She looked vaguely familiar, with her pale skin and chestnut hair, and those smoky gray eyes that were filled with apologies for scaring her.

However, it was the man standing eagerly beside the woman that she remembered most. Or more like, it was the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at her like she was his most coveted possession that she remembered. The mage, from four years ago, the night that she had found the first book. He had been looking at her with just that same expression. What was it he had been looking at?

"God, she's beautiful. Can you see it Daine? Can you see it? Can you see her spell?" Ah, yes, that was what he had been raving about. Her "spell", whatever that was. Blaine's eyes widened and her head tipped back wearily, her eyes clearly stating she thought he was crazy. The girl caught her look.

"Oh Numair, stop it! You're frightening the poor girl! What are you raving about anyways? I don't see a spell at all," this was accompanied by a quick slap to Numair's arm with her free hand. Now that Blaine was looking, she could see a bag in the girls other hand. A big one. It looked quite full.

"Don't listen to him. He'll go on and on for hours about something that intrigues him if it has to do with magic. But anyways, I'm Verladaine Sarassi, otherwise known as Daine, the Wild Mage. Lady Alanna asked us, well me, to bring this too you. When Numair heard I was coming to see you, he tagged along. He wanted to get another look at you and your 'spell' apparently."

At the end of that speech, Blaine looked questioningly at Daine, who had yet to relinquish the bag. In fact, the wild mage was looking back at her as if there was something she should say. So, with a raised eyebrow she murmured, "Alright."

"Oh! Right, the bag, sorry," Daine passed it over, and Blaine gripped it around the top easily, almost scared to look inside.

"Who was it that sent this to me again?" She asked, wondering if she should peer inside now, or wait until she was alone. Best do it now, because who knew what was in it? It was entirely possible that the things inside she didn't want Lord Rhys or Terry to discover.

"Alanna, the Lioness. She said that someone she knew wanted you to have it," Blaine nodded absently and untied the top. Taking a deep breath, she peered inside.

Chills raced up her spin as the musclesi n her legs tightened to hold up her suddenlt swaying body. Her face contorted in horror as she slammed the bag closed again and looked up at Daine. Every limb in her body began to shake as she stared at her.

"How… how…" How had Alanna found out! Someone had found out what she had done! Why else would that be in the bag? Her heart was pounding in her ears, a loud, dull thud. Each beat sounded like a hammer falling in her ear. Her breath began to wheeze as she stared at the bag that hung limply in her hand, picturing the contents.

How had Alanna found out that she was looking for a disguise? That she was planning to steal the books from Lord Rhys? How had she found out?

"Blaine? Blaine are you okay?" Green eyes that had been locked onto the bag lifted to Merric's face. The concern on it didn't register with her, and neither did the feeling of his hands on her shoulders, shaking her.

How did Alanna know? The last person she had told, the only person she had told was George. George… he was… married to… Alanna.

"Oh thank god!" she exhaled, feeling her body go lax. She was afraid for a moment that she would fall completely to the floor, but her body came in contact with Merric's and she rested there, her head pressed against his chest, breathing in deeply for several seconds.

She wasn't caught, she wasn't found out. She was simply being given a leg up.

"What was in the bag?" Blaine stepped back from Merric, laughing loudly and unexpectedly. What had been in the bag? What indeed. It had simply been a wig, along with an impressive suit fit nicely for a man. Her disguise. Now, as soon as she was able, she could set her plan to steal the book back into motion.

"Nothing… it was just… no nothing," She peeked back into the bag and gave another delighted laugh. "Shall we get to training?"

As she turned to place the bag down by the bucket of swords she had tipped over she found herself face to face with a staring Numair. She hated the way he stared at her! It made her nervous. She knew he was simply looking at her spell, but with all the time he was spending watching her, there was the haunting possibility that he would see something else, notice something else. Something crucial to her survival in this world. So she had to make him stop.

"Stop it!" she shouted.

"I can't help it. It's just… so beautiful. Daine, are you sure you can't see it?" Numair grabbed Daine's hand and pulled her close to his side. Then he muttered something under his breath. A spell, but what kind? Was it something bad? "Now do you see?"

Blaine watched, fascinated, as the change took over the other woman's face. It went from skeptical to shock to disbelief to complete awe in the time it would take her to snap her fingers.

"You're… you're… beautiful! Princess, it's like… like the magic is glowing from inside you. Most gifted people, they're magic is not inside them, but on the surface of there skin, like a second layer. It's the same with people who have had a spell cast on them. It layers over their skin. But you... your spell is glowing from inside you, and it's the most Godly light I have ever seen. It turns everything about you a dusky gold, and it clouds in and around you. And in the center of that cloud... is you. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Daine finished her little speech with a whistful sigh, "Whoever gave you that spell, Blaine? They gave you the greatest gift in the entire world."

A/N Okay! There you have it! Any guesses on what the spell is? Tell me about it in a review!  
-Nubia


	23. Ch 22 Confrontations

A/N So here you go. I've been having some trouble getting my story to go where I want it to go, but after this chapter I'm pretty sure I should get back into my usual easy groove. So Review and let me know what you think. And I expect a lot of reviews because after all my hard work, I believe I deserve some. So yeah! Enjoy the chapter and give me some reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Confrontations

Merric cursed as the bell to wake the pages echoed down the halls and hurried to pull his shoes on. He had to get to Blaine's room before her brother and fiancé woke. If he didn't, it was likely she would emerge from her room with bruises. At least, more than she had at the moment.

It still pissed him off that after all the hours he spent with her every day, training, her fiancé still found time to beat her. Merric bet that he woke up in the middle of the night just to do it.

Slamming the door behind him as he left his room, Merric debated whether he should run or not, seeing how it was likely he was going to be late getting there. Remembering the bloody lip she had had when she had answered the door the day before, he figured he had best run.

"Merric!" Frowning, Merric turned back. Who could be calling him? Everyone knew that he was working with Blaine today. He had told everyone that he would be preoccupied for the next few months with this. So who was calling him?

"Merric, where are you going in such a hurry?" Merric's eyes focused on Claire. And he frowned harder. He had told her specifically that he wouldn't have any time for her, and that he would be busy with Blaine. So, what was she doing here? Why was she delaying him?

Claire smiled widely and waited for Merric to open his arms for her. She hadn't seen him for what seemed like months. And she had been okay with it, for a while. She realized that Blaine was Merric's top priority at the moment. But surely he could squeeze in a little room for his bride.

In her hands she held a basket filled with yummy foods, his favorite, that she had commissioned personally from the kitchens. Also in the basket was some special wine that had cost her a fortune. But it would be worth it. As long as she and Merric could spend a relaxing lunch out in the garden, just enjoying each other, as they had in the very beginning of their romance.

But Merric didn't open his arms to her. He didn't even smile. He just looked at her, with an accusation in his eyes that cut to the heart.

"Blaine is waiting for me, so I was going to her rooms. So, if you'll excuse me—"

"Surely she can wait, Merric! I'm your bride! Wouldn't you rather spend a day with me? We could sit out in the gardens, eat delicious food, just be with each other, like it used to be!"

"I can't, Claire. Blaine's waiting for me," he started to turn away and she grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"But… I… I packed a basket of food! I bought wine! I planned this all out!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. But Blaine comes first," he tried to walk away, but again Claire grabbed his arm, and made him face her.

"But I'm the woman you're going to marry!" Claire felt her heart twisting in her chest, twisting so hard that it brought tears to her eyes. Why was he doing this to her? Why? What had she done to deserve to be cast aside like this? She had been good to him! She had loved him. She had done everything that a woman was supposed to do for her future husband. And this was her repayment?

"But Blaine is more important right now, Claire. You're just going to have to accept that." Merric gave her a chummy pat on the shoulder and tried to leave for the third time. And for the third time she pulled him back.

"Accept that? You're putting a fickle little girl in front of the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with! How am I supposed to accept that? You said you love me Merric! How could you do this too me?" Claire felt the sob building in her throat and tried to hold it back. She didn't want to cry in front of Merric, especially over something like this. Merric didn't like it when his women cried, especially over things he thought were frivolous, such as this. But she couldn't help it. Why was he doing this to her?

"She's not fickle!" Merric shouted suddenly, his eyes turning a dangerous blue with a rage so deep that she couldn't comprehend. Where had it come from? Why was it directed at her? "And she's not a little girl! She's a woman, Claire. And apparently a stronger one then you. She's been through a lot, and is going through a lot more then you can ever know. And you don't see her crying, do you? No. So I'd appreciate it if you'd give her the respect she deserves. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get her."

Claire watched, tears pouring down her pale cheeks, as Merric walked away from her.

* * *

Blaine groaned as the pounding inside her head grew loud enough that she couldn't ignore it any more. She ran a hand across her forehead, pushing the hair out of her eyes as she sat up in bed, the blankets falling from her shoulders.

She frowned, when the pounding in her head echoed against the door outside her room. Maybe it hadn't been a headache that had awoken her, though she had been experiencing more and more of those in the mornings.

The knock on her door startled her, and she watched wide-eyed as Lord Rhys leaned in and told her that Merric was there to take her to her daily training. She was tensed, ready for any sort of attack that could come through the door after this, but when nothing happened, she nodded and stood. And fisted a hand on her temple as the blood rushed into her head, made it pound as tiny black dots clouded her vision and pressure overwhelmed the contents of her skull.

Wincing, she waited for it to pass, it had too pass. It did, but only to be replaced by that ghost headache that had woken her up just a few minutes ago. Sighing, she walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out some pants she could slip into under her long nightgown. Next she flipped off her gown and pulled out a shirt from another drawer, then looked down at her stomach, taking note of the progress of her bruises.

The ones from two days ago had faded to a gross yellow color. But the ones from very late last night, the ones that she had been dragged out of bed and a sound sleep for, were a sickening shade of purple. An obligatory test prod of the bruises confirmed one, that yes they did in fact hurt, and two, the rib bones beneath the bruises didn't appear to be broken.

That done, she pulled the shirt over her head and tucked it down so the edge of the shirt settled around her hips. It wasn't as tight a fit as it used to be, and she worried after that for a moment because it meant she was losing weight. But Merric was waiting, and she wanted to get away from these rooms and the people that lived in them.

She checked her face in the mirror. Her bloody lip from the day before had turned instead into a fat one, having swelled during her sleep. But there was a fresh bruise around her left eye.

"That is not at all attractive," Blaine whispered as she looked down at her collection of cosmetics. She should probably disguise that eye, it would only take a few minutes, now that she was so practiced in the art of covering up. But who was she going to see today that would really care? She was only going to go training with Merric. And he already knew all about the beatings. So there was no point in bothering to cover it up. That being said, she grabbed a hair tie, piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun, and secured it.

Slipping her feet into shoes, she grabbed a cloak in case Merric wanted to train outside for some Godforsaken reason and headed out the door. Merric was sitting stiffly in a chair, staring dangerously at Lord Rhys. In fact, Blaine was almost certain that she could see holes appearing in Lord Rhys's forehead from the force of Merric's stare.

When she stepped into the room he stood and walked over to her side, grabbing her arm protectively and hurrying her out of the door. She could tell from the pace of his steps that he had seen the fresh bruises and it had made him angry, angrier than before.

The walk to the training room was silent except for the echoing of their feet as they ambled down the stone corridor. Blaine snuck several looks at Merric as they walked, gauging the slow release of tension in his jaw. Over the weeks that they had been doing this, him picking her up early in the morning, training all day, then returning to her room late in the evening, Blaine had come to notice that when Merric was angry, he got tense. And when he got tense he clenched his jaw, which in turn caused it to tick.

So, by watching the intensity of the tick in his jaw, she was able to determine when he was angry and how angry he was. By the looks of his jaw at that moment, he was still extremely pissed.

With a sigh, she stepped into the training room, holding the door open for Merric. He gave her a slow look as he walked through, his eyes striking out at her. She could see the bright anger in them, but it was the emotion underneath that had her breath freezing in her lungs, her heart choking in her throat.

Merric came to a stop parallel with her, turned his head so he was staring her straight in the face, and gave her that look. She felt her hands clench on the door as she looked into those eyes and felt the blood pound in her veins. Everything seemed to fade except for the electric blue of his eyes and she felt herself being pulled in as her heart did a silly flip-flop and landed with a flutter.

"Stop it!" she whispered and managed to tear her eyes away from his. Along with the ticking of the jaw, she had also come to notice that emotion in his eyes. And she had also begun to be effected by it. And she hated the fact that he could affect her. "Stop looking at me like that."

She looked up through her lashes at him and seeing that he was still giving her that sole searing look, she let go of the door, laughing when it knocked into his shoulder, catching him off guard. Mission accomplished, Blaine strode into the ring and looked into the wooden bucket. It looked like staffs were on the training list today.

"Can you train today?" Merric asked quietly from the right of her. She looked over her shoulder at him then nodded shortly. "Let me see."

Blaine sighed a quiet little sigh. This, also, had become part of their routine. Merric knew, almost instinctively whenever Blaine had fresh bruises on her body, even if they weren't in plain sight like they were today on her face. So, everyday, he always did a check himself of her bruises, even though she insisted that she had checked them herself and they were perfectly fine.

Resigned to the inevitable and knowing it was useless to struggle, Blaine carefully lifted her shirt until the edge rested just below her breasts, baring her stomach and the several bruises in different stages of healing. Merric gave a cursory glance over the bruises that were older then zeroed in on the fresh bruises.

"Do they hurt?" he asked, looked at them. Blaine shrugged. Yes they hurt, but truth be told? She was used to it by now. "They look like they hurt."

Blaine heard a soft click and looked up just as Merric kneeled down to get a closer look at the bruises, possibly checking for physical signs of broken ribs. As his body disappeared down below her eye line, Blaine was given the perfect view of the last person she had expected to see.

Claire.

* * *

After Merric left her standing in the hallway, crying quite unashamedly by then, Claire had taken the basket back to the kitchens and told the cooks there that they could have it for themselves.

Then, feeling guilty about how she had treated Merric, she had headed towards their usual training arena to apologize. It had been her fault, after all. Merric had specifically told her that he would be busy with Blaine's training. He had specifically gone out of his way to explain to her why they wouldn't be able to be together like they used to be able to.

And she should have listened to him. He would soon be her husband, after all. This would have been good practice for when she legally had to listen to everything he said to her. She had been in the wrong by disobeying him. And this had been her punishment, being left in the corridor crying all alone. Sure, it would have been nice to have him put his arms around her and comfort her like he would have done in the past. But she understood now that he had to be there for Blaine first.

At least, she tried to understand that. But it was hard! So hard. Once, she had Blaine had been in competition with each other. She had been the spoiled little princess who had stolen away her knight master. She had been the bratty little girl who had rubbed that fact in her face. She had been, basically, her arch nemesis. However, once Blaine had returned to her home country, Merric had had no one to occupy his time, and Claire had had no one to compete with. The two had naturally drifted back together. And their relationship had grown from a squire and her former knight-master, to friends, and finally to what they were today. And once Claire had had Merric, Blaine had been insignificant.

Now it seemed that they were once again in competition. And this time Claire didn't seem to have any weapons that she could use against Blaine. And really, the fun wasn't in it anymore. Blaine was so nice to her about it. And when Claire had announced the news of her engagement to Merric, she had been hoping, secretly, that Blaine would throw a monumental tantrum and Claire would have another fight on her hands. But all she had gotten in return were well wishes and genuine friendly support over the news. There had been no fun in that. And Claire had thought that maybe they could be friends.

But now Claire realized that Blaine had been up to something the whole time. Instead of declaring out loud that she hated Claire and it would be her mission to separate the two of them, she had done something so much worse, so much sneakier. She had gone behind everyone's back and sought out Merric's help with her knight training. And now she got to spend everyday with _her_ fiancé, training with _her _fiancé, probably even _touching_ her fiancé!

And it wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair_! Claire nearly stomped her foot in indignation as she came to a stop before the training room door. It wasn't fair at all, and she was going to tell Merric just that and demand that he paid some attention to her! To hell with Blaine and her so-called "importance". To hell with it all!

Face settled into a determined frown, Claire pulled the door open and slipped inside. She was fully prepared to storm up to Merric and Blaine and give them both a piece of her mind. And came to an abrupt stop when she saw them.

She felt the blood drain out of her face as she watched the two of them, Blaine with her shirt up around her chest and Merric kneeling before her, his hands on her stomach. As she lifted her eyes to Blaine's she thought she would throw up. Frozen with shock that was slowly being permeated by the pain of her heart shattering, Claire couldn't look away from the scene, let alone walk away. She sucked in a hasty breath and managed to pull her eyes up to Blaine's but that was hardly any better.

* * *

Blaine stared at Claire as Merric continued to look at her bruises. The girl looked like she had seen a ghost, what with the way her face was so pale, her lips so lifeless, and her eyes so huge in her face. Either that, or her future husband cheating on her. Blaine wasn't sure if she should say something, or just let Claire watch. She knew how the situation looked, with her shirt up like this. But if she tried to cover it up, it would probably just make everything worse. It was probably best just to let the moment run it's course. If Claire kept watching, surely she would see that there was nothing scandalous going on.

Merric suddenly gave a sharp prod on one of her new bruises, probably checking for a broken rib. But damn if it didn't hurt more than she wanted it too. She winced and considered slapping Merric on the back of his head for that but instead she shouted, "Be careful! Those are bruises you're poking at! And they hurt!"

"Sorry, but it looks like nothing's broken. How's your face?" Merric stood and Blaine lost sight of Claire for a second. She let her shirt drop as Merric stepped to the left and, grabbing her chin, turned her face so the light hit it. He squinted, looking closely at her eye. "Doesn't look too bad. At least, nothing Nealan needs to look at. Why do you let him do it Blaine?"

Angrily Blaine pulled her chin out of his hands and took a step back, turning away from him. A quick sideways glance showed her that Claire was still standing by the door. Well, she might as well add in some sort of explanation for Claire's sake, since she was still listening, and she still had that ghostly look on her face. Best go with the angry yet slightly helpless and at the same time extremely defensive battered wife persona for this one, Blaine decided as she fixed her face into the right mask. She settled her arms over her chest, hip cocked, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into an ugly little line.

"I don't let him do it Merric. If I could have stopped him I would have. Do you think I liked being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night just so he can beat the crap out of me? Of course I don't like it! I only tolerate it because at the moment it's the only choice I have!"

"But you're a knight! Fight back for God's sake! Don't just let him do it! I've taught you enough that you can give him a good beating next time, instead of him beating you!" Merric grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake, but she didn't react.

"What do you want from me Merric?" she asked suddenly, her voice and eyes dead. She was tired of this argument. He started it nearly everyday. And it did nothing but keep them running in circles, because she always told him the same thing. That she couldn't fight back. That is was safer to just bare it. This was never going to change, and as far as she could tell, she was never going to change. So why did he keep asking her the same thing?

"I want for you not to be hurt!" he shouted suddenly, and tugging her close, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her head into his chest. "I want to meet you one morning for training and not see a fresh bruise on your cheek. I want to watch you one day and not see you holding your stomach in pain. I want to see you Blaine, and I want to see you being happy. Can't you do that, for me?"

Blaine's eyes closed over tears as she stood in Merric's embrace, breathing in his heavenly scent and feeling her heart pound with emotions that were too strong. She felt herself welling up with those emotions. But there were too many, too many and they were too strong. She thought they were going to break her, she could feel them tearing at her seams. Wrapping her arms around Merric's back, she fisted the material of his shirt in her hands and held on, hoping to ride out the storm.

* * *

"They look right together, don't they?" the voice made Claire jump, and she tore her eyes away from Merric and Blaine holding on to each other and looked at the man standing beside her. He looked oddly familiar, with his handsome face and lion like eyes and mane. Who was this man? "It's Darren. Blaine's bodyguard. And you're Claire, correct?"

Claire nodded and watched, shocked, as Darren grabbed her hand, bent over it to kiss it, then looked up at her with his striking eyes and smiled like a lion after his prey. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Claire. What say you that we leave these two to their work and go for a lovely walk? Say… out in the gardens? I hear that today is a lovely day for such romantic things," he winked at her, and taking her hand, tucked it under his arm, and strode out of the room.

Claire followed him reluctantly at first, not sure of what she should do about the situation she had witnessed back in the training room. But looking at the handsome man that was escorting her out into the garden, she couldn't quite manage to walk away.

A/N okay there you go. Not my best, I admit. But from the other crap I was producing, this was definately the pick of the litter. So give me some reviews on how I can improve! I demand you give me reviews! But I also ask you kindly to give me reviews. SO GIVE ME REVIEWS!

Nubia


	24. Ch 23 The Key That Opens

A/N Okay! Here it is! I'm almost positive that if I try my hardest I should be able to get the next chapter out in one week exactly! So check back in a week for the next chapter after this one, just in case. But yeah, here you go! Oh, and before I forget, I appologize in advance. And also! Don't forget to review! Review Review REVIEW! lol okay! Enjoy

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Key That Opens

Blaine dropped to the sandy floor of the training room, her shoes digging into the ground, her butt sinking in, her hands covered with the silky smoothness of the yellow sand. She had just finished her morning run with Merric and she was exhausted, completely and totally exhausted.

Last night had been… rocky. And weird. Instead of being awoken at four in the morning by being dragged from the bed for a beating, she had been woken at midnight, dragged from bed and served a full plate of rants. Of course, there had been the occasional strike here and there, but mostly she had lain on the ground terrified while he had paced in front of her, screaming.

His eyes had been wild with a confusing madness, his hair had stood on end for the countless times he had gripped it in his fists, and his voice had been slurred, as if he had been drinking for hours. But Blaine knew for a fact that he had been stone cold sober that night. Several times he had come close to her face, gripping it in his strong, slender fingers, so he could scream at her and she had smelt his breath. There was no scent of alcohol on it. No. He wasn't drunk. That rage had come from his mind.

What probably scared her the most of the whole situation, however, wasn't his appearance, which had been wild, or his frantic pacing, which had looked like that of a schizophrenic, but had been the words spilling out of his mouth. They had come out in a deep guttural growl that sounded demonic, and the words had been hard to understand, and most of the time it had sounded like he was speaking in gibberish. Or saying everything backwards.

And lying there, on the ground with him looking crazy and wild above her, occasionally having him drop down on top of her and scream into her face had taken her back to every movie that she had ever watched where demons possessed people and the only way to save them was to call in the wayward priest.

However, because it was Tortall and the place she was standing in didn't believe in Christianity and possibly even demons, she had had absolutely no hope for salvation.

It sounded stupid to her now, but last night, when it had been pitch black except for the fire burned down to coals casting shadows and she had had him towering over her speaking in that horrible voice, it hadn't been stupid. It had been mind-numbingly terrifying.

"Blaine! If you're not going to pay attention to me I don't see the point in even trying to do any of this today!" Merric shouted and threw his staff on the ground, making sand dislodge and fly up a little, spraying into her face. It would have gotten into her eyes if she hadn't turned her head to the side and shut her eyes.

But that little action on Merric's part made her snap. She was already exhausted from having spent most of her night tensed in terror on the most uncomfortable ground she could think of. When were they going to invent carpets anyways? Then, after sitting through that for far too long, she had gotten maybe two hours before Merric came knocking on her door. And he hadn't been in the best of moods either. Probably had a fight with Claire after the scene she had witnessed the day before. But was that her fault? She had done her best to amend the situation. The rest was up to Merric. The pissy mood was his fault, not hers.

So really, she didn't have the time, or the inclination, to let him have a hissy fit. And if he wanted to have one, she wasn't going to sit around and listen. She had to do that all last night. She was not putting up with it today!

"Fine then! We won't," with that, she stood and stomped out of the room. Though she could hear Merric calling her to come back, she had decided that she didn't want to. Really, there was no point. She didn't have the mind capacity at the moment to concentrate on her training so as far as she could see, there would be nothing going on today but him yelling at her. And she didn't want that. So, she left.

As she was approaching her rooms, she saw Lord Rhys step out of the room alone, and turn towards her, his face creased in a frown. He didn't notice her at first, because she had stopped in her tracks, hadn't moved at all. Every fiber in her being stilled until she was one with the wall. If she didn't draw his attentions with movement, he wouldn't see her. As she stood there, frozen like a statue, she saw him raise his left hand, curve it into a fist, then rub, hard, at the crease in his brow, as if he was trying to rub away the pain that was concentrated there.

Then his step faltered, his eyes shot up to her face, and those wicked lips of his spread into an equally as wicked smile. "Princess Blaine. Aren't you supposed to be training with your knight master?"

"I decided to take a break for today. Merric wasn't to my liking so I've cut him loose for now," Blaine stood poised, all her muscles tensed, ready to take flight at the least sight of danger. On the outside, they all looked so normal. So normal. They worked so hard, so hard, to be normal, to make every public aspect of their life fly under their radar that no one would suspect. No one would suspect anything. If only they could see inside. To the truth.

"Yes well, that would make two of us then. Your brother's in one of his moods," Lord Rhys gave a shake of his head and lifted his hand suddenly to rub at his brow again, but he stopped when he saw Blaine flinch so badly. He gave a snide laugh then stepped close to her, leering. "Might want to work on those reactions, Dear. Otherwise people will start to suspect that I'm not the loving soon to be husband that I pretend to be. And you wouldn't want them to suspect anything, would you?"

Blaine's breath had clogged the second he had leaned into her, lodged there like a hard knot that wouldn't budge. She couldn't breath past it, she couldn't speak, she couldn't answer Lord Rhys. And she was terrified what he would do to her if she couldn't answer, so she nodded hastily as her green eyes met his cold steel gray ones. She felt her heart leap into her throat, mingling with the air that was stuck there, and pump once, twice, three times as she flirted so close with danger.

Her skin tingled as he leaned even closer, a shiver raced down her spine as his breath whispered over the back of her neck. She felt every hair on her body stand on end when he pressed his lips to the side of her neck, then lifted his mouth back up to her ear.

"Good. I wouldn't want that either," he pulled back suddenly and she had to stop herself from flinching again. "I find it interesting how you jump at every little move I make. It amuses me that I helped create that in you. I always wanted to create something," again he gave his wicked smile, then it turned breezy, his voice light. "I'm heading into the city for a few hours, maybe find some… womanly companionship since your brother won't allow me to find it here. Don't miss me too much while I'm away."

He winked and continued down the hall, his step jaunty, jubilant almost. Under her breath, Blaine whispered, "That won't be so hard to do."

Her eyes could have killed if they had that power as she stared at him walking away from her. But then it occurred to her. Lord Rhys would be gone for three hours, at the least. Three whole hours. A perfect window of time to accomplish her plan. And best of all?

There had been no book in his hands.

* * *

Blaine slipped into Merric's quarters and through them into Darren's. Darren was in the city for the day, doing errands for Merric. It was hard, sometimes, to remember that Darren didn't work for her anymore, but for Merric now. It was hard to remember that Darren wouldn't always be there for her, like he used to be. He was there for Merric now, she was simply a side benefit.

That thought made her feel guilty. Darren may want to have that closeness he had had with her when he worked with her, but he couldn't just leave Merric. It was his obligation as a man to keep his word. And right now, his word was with Merric. She also knew that if she asked it, Darren would quit working for Merric in a heartbeat and come back to work for her. But what mattered the most, was that if Darren came back to work with her, he would see those things she didn't want him to see, and he would do those acts she didn't want him to do, and he would hang, for certainty.

Blaine let out a hasty breath, and with that, expelled the bad thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time for such things. Now was the time for slipping into a character, for taking control of her situation, making an attempt to changing the course of the waters.

It was probably best no one entered the rooms while she was there, she reasoned. She slipped to the door and locked it. Then she also decided it was best no one knew she was there, in case someone entered Merric's rooms. So, she turned out the candles and closed the blinds. It was dim inside the room now, but she was able to see well enough to shimmy into her disguise and still go undetected.

First things first, she pulled the fat suit out of the bag. It was amazing, Blaine thought to herself as she prepared to strap herself in. They hadn't invented carpets, yet they had fat suits. What was more important and more likely to be invented? You would think they would invent something useful before they invented something that was a luxury. And fat suit wasn't as useful as carpet, especially when they had such sucky heating systems.

"Well whatever, better for me I guess," she whispered under her breath as she undressed down to her underwear then pulled the fat suit on over them. It was squishy, and she suddenly wondered, what were fat suits made of? She pinched some of the suit between her two fingers, jiggled it a little. It felt like jello was in there. Jello. She hadn't had that in forever!

As she slipped into a royal blue outfit, her stomach rumbled and her mouth salivated. God, what she wouldn't give for a bowl of jello. And not just any jello either. The green kind. She licked her lips and strode to the mirror, a makeup kit in hand.

And pizza! Heavenly pizza. God how she missed that too. That thick red sauce on soft, warm dough covered with melted, slightly burnt cheese and a slice of pepperoni with every bite. And breadsticks, and soda! Oh and gum! God, smacking her lips with every chew, savoring that juicy flavor that only lasted fifteen minutes at best, blowing bubbles and having them pop all over her face. She missed all of that. So badly. It made her yearn to have it, just thinking about it.

"Oh Blaine, it's nothing to fuss over, nothing to miss. They have good stuff here. Like… well… they've got something!" she gave a sigh and strode over to Darren's desk.

She had been surprised the first time she entered Darren's rooms, to find a vanity type mirror like the one she had in her own room. But where hers was elaborate and obviously royal, his was plain with a touch of simple. Now that she thought about it though, it wasn't all that surprising to find it in Darren's rooms. He was a ladies man after all. And the ladies didn't just faint at any kind of appearance. Darren had to work at it, and this mirror was his workstation, obviously.

Leaning in so she could see in the dim light, she peered at her smiling face. Darren had a way of doing that, of making her smile. Even just at the thought of him, her lips would curve. But smiles did nothing to hide her ghastly appearance. The bags under her eyes were hideous. But could she be blamed? She hadn't gotten much sleep in a while, but last night had been the real topping on the cake. Her cheeks were sunken, pale, and without color. And her lips! Could they be any more lifeless? She was far from her movie star days, that was for sure.

"Geeze, it'll take a gallon of foundation to cover that mess," she whispered then froze when she heard the door to Merric's chambers open and two people walk in, their angry voices announcing them.

"What are you in such a mood about Merric?" it was Claire, and she sounded exasperated. Who wouldn't with Merric being as pissy as he had been earlier? "So what if she left? I would too with the way you were acting earlier. Yelling at everyone, that horrible scowl on your face, that 'I don't give a damn attitude'. It's a wonder I even followed you here."

"You don't understand!" Ah yes, that was indeed Merric, with that hard voice. It was raspy, as if he had in fact been yelling and now his voice was sore because of it. "I can't find her anywhere!"

They must be talking about me, Blaine decided, as she stood poised. She should probably not listen in on their conversation, it was wrong of her, it was eavesdropping, it was—

"So what? Merric, she's a silly little princess. Every once in a while she's going to throw a fit and storm off and you're just going to have to deal with it. That's part of the downfalls of working with royalty." That horrible tramp! Blaine clenched her fists in fury. She was not a silly little princess! She was a grown woman! Nearly twenty-eight! And what did she know about throwing fits? Had a raving lunatic kept her up all night?

"She's not silly, and she's not a little princess. She's a grown woman, nearly a knight. A few more months and she will be. That is if she survives. Both me and her fiancé," Merric cursed and she could hear him pacing back and forth on the other side of the wall which held the mirror she had been peering into just minutes before. Blaine held in her breath and stood absolutely still. She didn't want anyone to find her here. Especially not now that she was halfway dressed into a costume.

To be found now would be to cause some… interesting questions to be asked. And she didn't really want anyone to ask questions, or to… delve into the true meanings behind her actions.

"What do you mean survive? It's not like someone's going to kill her," Blaine wanted to snort and was quite glad when Merric did it for her. Oh, if only she knew.

"Claire, there is a lot you need to learn about life, first of which is observation. If you had bothered to look—"

"You mean the bruises? I saw them," Claire's voice had gone from nagging to sudden void of emotions. Like she wasn't sure she wanted to give away what she was feeling, as if she was certain Merric would disapprove of it, and she couldn't bare to have that.

"What? When?" Merric's pacing stopped and his voice became fainter, as if he has turned away from the wall. But she could still hear it clearly and because of that she could hear the emotion in his voice. The beginnings of rage were in them. She could practically see him clenching his jaw, practically see that tick in his jaw.

"Yesterday. While you were training with her. I saw you, kneeling down in front of her, touching her, touching the bruises, I don't know. But I saw you talking to her, and I saw you holding her. What were you saying to her Merric?" Claire's voice had become hard, strained, as if she was trying to hold back sudden tears but couldn't quite do it.

Blaine leaned closer to the wall, until she could gently press her ear against it, wanting to hear as best as she could. To hell with eavesdropping, this was getting good!

"You were spying on me?" Merric's voice was also hard, but it was hard with rage, heavy and raspy. She heard him take five furious steps then she heard Claire cry out. What was going on in there? Oh, if only she was super man and had the ability to see through walls.

"Merric stop! You're hurting me!" She could hear the sounds of a struggle, then Claire cried out again. Was he shaking her? Was she trying to wrench her arm free? Would one of them break into ninja moves like in the Matrix, or Kill Bill? Man, if only she could see!

"Tell me what you were doing spying on me!" Merric shouted, more struggling, the rustling of clothes. Merric was probably shaking her, hopefully forcing her to speak. But she could understand why Merric was so angry. She had wanted to keep her abuse secret, and she had asked him to do so as well. It would only cause unnecessary problems if any one were to know about the abuse, or if anyone were to try and do something about it. The books were at stake here. And for Merric, his duty of making her into a knight was at stake here. So, yes, she could understand why Merric would be angry. She would be angry herself.

"I wasn't spying! I was coming to apologize for the way I had acted earlier. I wanted to explain myself and ask for forgiveness. I was only trying to bring us closer again Merric. And I didn't want a silly argument to stand between us. But when I came in, I saw you, and her… and well I guess you can imagine, I wasn't in the right state of mind to announce myself. But Merric, what did you say to her?" Claire's voice was soft, and there was more rustling, but this time Blaine imagined Claire running her hand across his cheek, or through his hair, trying to soothe, her eyes big and adoring staring up into Merric's face. Little hussy.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is there's nothing going on between me and Blaine, Claire. So don't worry. Now I want you to forget what you saw."

"What do you mean? How could I forget?" Her voice changed from soothing to accusatory fast, with the snap of her fingers almost. These two were a regular pair of screwballs, always arguing. But wait… wasn't that how most of her conversations with Merric went? She tried to suppress a laugh. Maybe it was just Merric that was the screwball, and he made everyone else around him temporarily crazy.

"The bruises will heal in time. And no one needs to know," Merric's voice was now a placating one, as if he was trying to convince her that she would be better off if she forgot what she had seen.

"Needs to know what?" Claire's voice was high pitched, scared. A few more octaves and she could be a regular horror film star. What was she thinking, Blaine wondered. Did she think it was Merric that had caused the bruises? During training? Or in a fit of rage? That Merric was beating her? Man, this could only go down hill from here. Blaine started looking around for a place to sit that wouldn't make much noise. It looked like she was going to be there for a while. Might as well be comfortable. She started to head for Darren's bed. Maybe even a nap was in order.

"Merric," that was Claire again, her voice dead serious. "Did you give Blaine those bruises?" Man, could she call them or what? Blaine silently congratulated herself on successfully guessing the run of the two lovebirds argument and settled in to listen for Merric's answer. How was he going to handle this one?

"How could you think that?" he shouted, and resumed his pacing along the wall. "Of course I didn't. It was her fiancé!"

Blaine gasped, her eyes wide open in horror. Her hands once again clenched in fury as she saw red. The only thing that kept her from storming into that room then and there was the fact that she was dressed in a fat suit and wearing men's clothing. Her head filled with screams of rage, curses, and threatening promises of the pain she was going to inflict on Merric the next chance she got.

"What?" came Claire's breathy whisper and Blaine pressed her ear close to the wall again. She was going to hear what was being said so she could do some damage control as soon as she was done with mission today. This secret was not going to spread any further, damn it. She couldn't afford it!

"I… I… shit! I wasn't supposed to tell you that," You're damn right, Blaine thought angrily as she hissed out an agitated breath. Way to go blubber mouth, she cursed at him and listened more intently. "Gods, she'd kill me if she knew that I told you," two for O, she thought and wondered if she should cut off his toes or his fingers first.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone Claire. Anyone! But you see? This is why I've been working with her so much lately. If she's not with him, she won't get hurt. Please Claire, don't say anything."

"No," came Claire's voice, distant, filled with shock. It seemed she never would have guessed that this sort of thing was happening right under her nose. "No, I won't tell anyone. Oh Gods Merric. How bad is it?"

"It's bad, but it could be worse. Right now I'm just keeping an eye on her. If there's any sign, at all, that he's going to kill her, you know I'll get her out. But right now, she wants me—us—to leave it alone. She says she can handle it. But I don't know. It's getting worse. The bruises are getting bigger, blacker. There's more now then there were when I first found out. I'm worried about her Claire. But do you see? Do you see why I can't be with you right now? Blaine needs me more."

"Yes, I understand. Completely. Oh Merric, is there anything I can do? I want to help. Please, let me help!" Claire's voice was pleading. And Blaine wanted to punch her in the face. I don't need your help, she wanted to scream. And I don't need your pity! I'm strong, she thought, I can handle it on my own. I've been handling it, haven't I? Four years! Four years on my own! With no one but myself to lean on. I haven't needed you in the past and I don't need you now! Her breath began to hitch, she was so furious. Burning tears of rage stung at her eyes and she tipped her head back, squeezed those green eyes shut, and forced them away. How could he have done this to her?

"No, nothing. Claire, you can't say anything to her. If she knew I told you… if she knew… she would never trust me again. And right now, she needs to trust in someone. She needs to trust in me."

You're right about one thing, Merric, Blaine thought darkly as her face settled into a dark scowl and her hands clenched, I'm never going to trust you again.

But she had a mission to complete, she had places she needed to go, disguises that needed to be finished. She listened to Merric and Claire leave, and she carefully applied the makeup. Just as carefully she tucked her golden hair under the black wig.

Then, as she slipped into the much-needed character, she let go of the frown on her face. Her character wasn't angry, and it was because of this that she settled her face into a concentrated mulish expression. It was because of this that she locked away her anger into a secret chamber in her heart. It was because of this, that she let go of the furious tension in her shoulders.

It was because of this, that she didn't allow herself to feel her heart break.

* * *

King Terry grumbled when the knock came at his door, he grumbled some more when he opened it and the fat man behind it gave him the message that the king wanted to see him out in the stables. Wanted to go for a horse ride through the woods did he? Well he could go it alone!

But common sense had him pushing out the door and into the corridors. One had to please the king if he wanted to get away with such things as scouring the countries for books long lost. So he'd go on that stupid horse ride. He'd go on a thousand horse rides, if he and Lord Rhys were given their leave. It was these thoughts that had him forgetting about the fat man, and it was these thoughts that kept him from noticing when the fat man entered his rooms after he had left.

Blaine, in her costume slipped into the setting room that King Terry had before been occupying. Everything was going according to plan. Thanks to her outrageous acting skills, King Terry hadn't looked twice at her. She had flown under his radar as another petty noble who wasn't worthy of being noticed. But she had noticed him, and she had seen that his hands were empty. No book. That meant the book had to be in these rooms. They had to be.

She steeled herself against her though. She was about to enter into forbidden territory: Lord Rhys's room. Stepping up to the door, she breathed in deep and reached out. Her hand shook as the warm skin of her palm met the cold steel of the knob, and her knees tried to buckle as she turned it. Opened it.

She had a perfect idea of what would happen to her if she were found in these rooms that she now stood before. And she could see her own bloody death on the floor in there as she pushed open the door. It wasn't exactly a pretty picture to imagine, nor was it comforting.

But Lord Rhys was in the city and King Terry was headed on a wild goose chase that would keep him away for at least an hour. And she was in a disguise that no one would recognize. She could do this. She could go into these rooms, get what she was looking for, and get out alive and safe.

She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into his room. Felt her entire body shudder as if someone placed a curse on her. Focus Blaine, she shouted in her head, focus!

There was his bed, tidily made, by servants probably. There was a bookshelf, with books on every one, but the book she was looking for wouldn't be there. No, it would be in a chest, possibly locked. Further inspection of the room showed her a desk.

And sitting on that desk in plain sight was the chest she was looking for. She walked to it, touched it with her hands, and marveled that she couldn't feel the power that was surely radiating from the book inside.

The key was there, just there, beside the chest. She gripped it in her shaking hand, put it up to the lock, pushed it in, turned, ever so slowly it turned. Why was this so easy? Why hadn't he taken better precautions at keeping this precious item safe?

The click of the lock opening made her jump, and she let out a nervous laugh. She took the key back out and placed it softly on the desk beside the chest. Then, taking a deep breath, she put her hands on either side of the lid and slowly lifted it, peered inside.

And couldn't believe her eyes.

A/N this would be where the earlier appologies come into play. lol. Don't hate me! Just be pateint. It'll all be explained later. Oh, and in case you are wondering, the chapters are winding down and there is about... five, maybe six chapters left to write. So! That said, REVIEW!

-Nubia


	25. Ch 24 Opening

A/N So here it is! The next chapter. And I'd also like to share something with you. So far, my story has gotten 4134 hits. And only 126 reviews. Not very good odds. Also, in my last chapter I got 65 hits and only 4 reviews. Again, not good odds. So! I'm expecting more! And since I'm so greatful to those of you who did review (all four of you), this chapter is dedicated to you!

Chapter Twenty-Four: Opening

"I'm telling you, you should have seen this girl!" Darren stopped before opening the door to his room to turn to Merric and make some… obvious hand motions about the said girl's figure.

Merric laughed and shook his head. "I don't know how you do it! Women drive me nuts! I mean, you try to do something good for them and they take it out of context, get angry, and storm off! I mean, take Blaine for example!"

"Better not go there, my friend. I'm biased on all Blaine subjects. And besides, as long as you treat them with the respect they deserve, don't do anything they don't ask for, and they'll love you. And the rewards are… most pleasing," Darren laughed, then gave a sigh. "Yes, most pleasing."

"Still, the rewards are few and far between. It's too much hassle if you ask me," Merric shook his head again then punched Darren lightly on the shoulder. "Are you going in or not?"

Darren gave his devilish grin, which didn't actually look devilish so much as charming and unlocked his door, then pushed it open and stepped in.

"Dear Gods! Blaine!" he shouted and rushed into the room, wanting to reach her as fast as possible and scoop her up into his arms. Something was wrong, he saw it the instant he looked at her. But he stopped before touching her. Yes, something was terribly wrong.

She was sitting perched on the edge of his bed, her feet side by side on the floor, heels and toes together. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap in a dress that had been smoothed over and over again until it was perfect. Her posture was impeccable, her spine straight, her shoulders level, her chin raised to the perfect height. She was the image of propriety. But her eyes… they were empty. Of everything.

They stared straight ahead without seeing, the line of vision landing on the opposite wall. She didn't blink, didn't move, didn't even acknowledge the fact that someone had entered the room. What was wrong?

"Blaine!" Merric shouted and tried to run forward to her also. Darren gripped his arm, hard, and stopped him before he reached her. Merric struggled a little, but Darren won out.

"Stop. Something's wrong. Don't touch her," Merric looked like he was about to protest and wordlessly Darren motioned towards Blaine with his head. She had yet to move, had yet to blink, had yet to show any signs of life.

"What do we do?" Merric asked and together they kneeled down in front of her. Darren raised himself up a little so he was at eye level. She continued to stare right through him as if he wasn't there.

"Blaine?" Nothing. No response. Not even a flicker of the eye. "Blaine? Sweetie, hey, look at me! Blaine? Come on! Blaine!" Still nothing.

"That's not working!" Merric growled. His throat felt tight, chocked. He couldn't seem to get in a full breath. Everything seemed strained. What was wrong with her? Had he gotten to her? Had he done something to her after she had left him this morning? "I swear if that bastard did anything to her…"

"Now's not the time to worry about that. We have to focus on Blaine. Sweetie! Come on Blaine, look at me! Come on! Look at me Blaine! Please!" Merric was right, this wasn't working. But he didn't want to touch her, didn't want to startle her. But maybe that was the only way.

Slowly, gently, he lifted his right hand and placed it softly on her knee. She flinched, but continued to stare at the wall. Just as slowly and just as gently, he placed his left hand on her other knee. She flinched again, jerked her knee slightly, but she still stared at the wall.

Her eyes were so lifeless, so dead. It scared him, the way they could be so empty. Something so full of life should never look like this, ever. He had to fix it. He had to fix her. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't fill her eyes back up with that spark.

"Blaine, look at me," he said in a firm, commanding voice. He squeezed her knee and hoped for a reaction. She had always hated it when he had used that tone of voice on her, usually to scold. She always said, he smiled now thinking about it, she knew what was right and wrong, she didn't need him to tell her so. And then she would frown, this mean, ugly frown, but her eyes would be smiling. What he wouldn't give to see that on her face now. "Blaine!"

She startled, just a little, but it was enough. Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyes moved from the wall downwards in a long arch until they met his gaze. They looked confused, but at least they weren't dead. It was because his hands were on her knees that he felt the long shiver run through her body.

"Why is it so cold in here?" she asked in a tone he had never heard her use before. It was hard for him to understand exactly what the tone was, but he knew he didn't like it. It was too high, to lilting, to… belittling. As if, as if he was out of his place, or he had done something that he shouldn't have, and she disapproved and she wanted him to know.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused. He tilted his head to the side slightly, and looked at her, asking with his facial expression what he was supposed to do about it.

"You should be! Now, go turn the heat up. It has to be at least sixty-five degrees in here! I want it to be eighty! No more no less! Do you understand?" She asked. But she didn't wait for an answer. Instead she turned to Merric, dismissing Darren as if he wasn't there. "The servants are so hard to deal with aren't they? Why, I was just talking to Lady Witherferd. She had to fire three of her servants: a gardener, a maid, and her driver. They just didn't know their place I guess. Oh! Is that the call for tea? I do hope they have those lemon biscuits today. I do fancy them the best."

Merric and Darren exchanged glances after that little outburst. Clearly, Blaine wasn't quite herself yet. Darren would just have to try harder.

"Blaine! Stop this nonsense and tell me what is going on! Blaine!" he shook her legs harder, but she didn't look at him. She was staring off at the wall again, mumbling to herself.

"Gotta remember these lines, gotta remember! Mom will love me, if only I can get this part. Gotta get this part! I'll be a star, a real one. Everyone will know my name. My fan base will soar and I'll not just have the kids anymore, but I'll hook their parents too. Gotta remember these lines!"

"What is she mumbling about? Darren, shake her harder!" Merric ordered.

"Blaine!" Darren moved his hands from her knees to her shoulders, shook harder, until her head was jumping backwards and forwards. She pulled away from him, stood and paced away.

"Blaine?" Merric called softly, hoping she was back to normal. She whipped around so fast he thought she would lose her balance. But she didn't. Her eyes zeroed in on him, and froze over. He thought he could feel the temperature drop in the room the instant that their eyes met.

"So," she said and her voice was dark, foreboding, filled with thousands of emotions, but at the top of it all was disgust. "You've finally come crawling back have you? How was she? Huh? Always heard Amanda was great in bed, but now I've got someone to tell me the truth. Well?"

She seemed to be expecting an answer, but he didn't know what to say. What could he say? He didn't have a clue what she was talking about. Who was Amanda? And who did she even think he was?

"No answer huh? I guess her stupidity rubbed off on you. Not surprised though," she stopped to gather her thoughts and Merric saw tears gather in her eyes. It wrenched at his heart. And he couldn't stop himself from rushing to her and trying to gather her into his arms to soothe. But she struggled out of his grasp, screaming at him. It wasn't until he was standing a few feet away that her words registered. "Don't even think you can touch me Chris! How could you do that to me? I loved you! I gave you everything I had! And you took it all. And then you crushed me. You slept with my own best friend. My best friend! And now you're trying to apologize? Take those apologies and shove it up your fat, white a—"

SMACK.

Blaine's head flew to the side as Darren's hand fell back down. She turned her head back just as fast, cupping her reddening cheek. Her eyes were welling with tears, but they were her eyes. She was back, back to herself. But things were still wrong. He could see it in her face.

"I'm sorry Blaine," he whispered, but she only shook her head. Her eyes were filled with understanding, and he watched that understanding cloud with those tears and slowly spill down her cheeks.

"I tried, Darren. I tried so hard," she sobbed, her hands curling into fists and pressing against her open mouth.

"I know hun, I know. Shh, it's okay. Come here," he opened his arms and she pressed herself into them, her shoulders shaking with her silent weeping and the cold that was seeping into her bones. For a while, the cold had left her, and she had hopes that it would be gone for good. But now… she shivered and pulled herself closer to Darren, seeking his warmth.

Blaine tried to stop the sobs. But she couldn't. She tried to control her emotions. But she couldn't do that either. How was it possible? How? Her mind flashed back to what she had seen when she had opened the chest, but she couldn't manage to grasp the truth. She couldn't seem to understand. Didn't want too.

How was it possible?

"Blaine, I need you to calm down and tell me what's happened," she could hear Darren's words. She could hear them, but she couldn't register them either. Her mind felt dumb, dead, a pile of useless flesh sitting inside her head. How? How was it possible? She shuddered with cold and disbelief. No, she must be wrong. She must be!

"Blaine? What's wrong?" Slowly, she lifted her head, just enough that she could peek over the top of Darren's shoulder as he was holding her. One sharp green eye focused on Merric, and she felt her stomach turn. She may not be able to understand what was going on with the chest in Lord Rhys's room, but she remembered what Merric had done today, the betrayal he had served her.

"Get him out of here," she whispered quietly, her voice shaking with her chattering teeth and her sobs. She felt Darren nod and buried her head back into his chest. When he tried to pull away, she held close. She couldn't seem to make herself let go of him. She needed someone to hold onto, something to ground her. Otherwise her world would spin away from her, into a black void filled with nothing but ice, like it had when she had looked inside that chest. How was it possible?

"Merric, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. It's what Blaine wants," she felt more than heard, Darren say, and she faintly heard Merric's protest and the following argument. How? How? HOW?

Then the door was closing, and with the sound of it slamming into place, the floodgates opened. Her sobs reached new heights as the amount of tears reached an impossible magnitude.

"I tried! I tried so hard! I did my best! I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I just don't know."

"Shh, it's okay. Come on, let's lay down on the bed," Darren whispered and led her over to it, sat her down, then laid down beside her and pulled her in close, held her there. Her tears were soaking through his shirt.

"What am I supposed to do? He never said something like this was possible! He never said! And how am I supposed to ask him? He hasn't…" her voice was lost in the sobs, but her thoughts were loud and clear in her head. How was she supposed to know what to do next? Gainel, the God that had started it all had abandoned her. Four years ago he had given up on her, left her out on her own. And now this? What was she supposed to do? What? There was only so much she could do!

How was it possible? "What am I supposed to do? I tried. I tried."

"I know, I know. Shh," Darren whispered, stroking her hair, pulling her closer to his own body. She was shivering, as if she was cold. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, up and down, up and down, trying to bring heat to her body. Her sobs were weakening now, her words growing faint. The tension in her body was slowly releasing.

Darren continued to stroke her back, up and down, until with a final whisper of, "How is it possible?" she drifted into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Blaine moaned at the pain in her head, and rolled over in her bed, trying to settle into the pillows. But something was different. The pillows were different. She managed to struggle one eye open and peak out at the room. No, this wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room. Where was she?

She moaned again and tried lifting her hand to her head. It was pounding like bloody hell. And her eyes felt swelled, itchy, sore. Yep, she'd definitely had a crying jag last night.

But who could blame her after the surprise she'd been given last night? For crying out loud! All her preparation, all her suffering, all her hard work, every punch, kick, bite, scratch, strike she had ever endured. All for naught. Wasted.

She had struggled so hard and the second she had opened that chest it had all crumbled out from under her. The second she had opened that chest and seen—

"Blaine? Are you awake?" with another moan she cracked her eye open again and saw the overly cheerful face of Claire. Just what she needed.

"No," Blaine grumbled and closed her eye again. Why couldn't Darren still be here? He would protect her from Claire. Now that Merric had spilled the beans about her situation, there was no doubt in Blaine's mind that Claire would try and do something to fix it. That was just the kind of person she was. And frankly, Blaine didn't want that. She didn't want, or need for that matter, to be fixed.

"Ah Blaine, you're so funny. I brought you freshly baked bread. I figured you would be hungry as you didn't make it to dinner last night," Claire said and pulled a chair up to the bed. At the mention of food Blaine decided it was an opportune moment to wake up. After all, Claire was right. She hadn't eaten in a while.

Blaine pulled herself into a sitting position and reached out for a hunk of bread. It was warm in her hand, soft, inviting. As she broke it open, steam rose from it. She sniffed curiously and sighed. It smelt delicious. She took a bite and nearly melted in joy. Yes, it was delicious indeed.

"Do you like it?" Claire asked eagerly. Blaine nodded enthusiastically and took another bite. "I'm glad. I made it myself this morning." At Blaine's lifted eyebrow she offered and explanation. "Nervous energy."

Suddenly, the bread didn't taste so good. It hardened in her mouth, became hard to swallow. Oh, so that was it. Carefully Blaine placed the bread in the palm of her hand, then passed it back to Claire. Nervous energy huh? More like anxious to stick her nose in where it didn't belong. This was all because of what Merric had told her the day before.

"You don't want it? But I made it for you!" Claire sounded heartbroken, but Blaine was immune to it. It wasn't her fault Claire was overstepping her bounds.

"No. If you'll excuse me, I have to be going. My fiancé will be wondering where I am," Blaine watched Claire flinch at the word fiancé. Typical, she thought. Everyone always winced when the unmentionable was mentioned. Expect for the person most directly involved.

"Oh, well, alright. I brought you a dress! I heard from Merric that you slept in your clothes. So I brought you something to change into," Claire said and stood up, almost rushing at helping Blaine. With a sigh, she accepted Claire's dress and then waited, pointedly watching, until Claire realized she was supposed to leave.

"I guess, I'll be seeing you," she whispered and gathered up the breadbasket and stood to leave. Blaine gave her a formal, impersonal smile, and waved her away. Claire seemed to want something else, and she stopped at the door, turned back, frowned. "You know, if you ever need anything, you can come to me."

Blaine nearly gagged on the cliché. How typical was that? The fiancé to the man who had betrayed her and lied to her and given away her most prized possessions was offering to help with the fact that she was being abused. Well, so it wasn't exactly typical. But it wasn't exactly every day stuff either.

"Alright," Blaine answered then made another shooing motion. Claire nodded then left and Blaine held up the dress for inspection. She hadn't lied when she said her fiancé would be wondering about her. And she didn't want _him_ to get any ideas about further punishments. Yes, it was best all around if she were to hurry back to her rooms.

Resigned to the inevitable she crawled out of her clothes from the day before, now wrinkled from her sleep, and into the dress that Claire had left for her. It had been quite some time, she realized, since she had warn a dress. She had figured, if she wore pants, she would seem more masculine, more tough, and maybe _he_ would leave her alone. Obviously that hadn't worked, she thought with a snort as the dress settled on her shoulders, long enough that it nearly touched the ground. No point in clinging to that hope now, she thought as she reached for the door.

With a last sigh and look around the room that was so much a hidden sanctuary, she slipped out the door and down the hallway, heading for her rooms. She should probably get changed into clothes suitable for training, she figured, as Merric would most likely want to see her today. Not that it was be very productive, she thought, as she was in no mood to accommodate to his wishes. Not after the way he spilled her secrets so easily to Claire.

She let out a huff of a breath and stopped before the door to her rooms. How easy would it be to just walk away? Who would know? And why would they care? No one knew that the fate of the world rested on her shoulders. So if she were to take off, to leave it all to someone else, what would it matter? Gainel had left her… left her with this… this… chaos of a life. He had taken her out of her own world, put her into this one, with the unspoken promise that he would be there for her, help her through when it was hard, _tell her what she was supposed to do! _And he had left her. Not a word from him, not a hint that he was even still there, not a whisper that he still believed in her, in her purpose here.

So what was the point in continuing?

"There is no point to it," she whispered heavily, then just as heavily said, "it's your duty and that's all that matters. So quit day dreaming and get to work," she nodded then firmly pushed her door open and stepped inside.

"So, the missing princess returns," came a dark whisper from the other side of the room. Blaine squinted and tried to see who it was. Shadows encompassed the space inside the room, chasing away nearly all the light. The only light that came inside the room was from where one of the curtains didn't quite meet and a slash of light angled into the room. She followed its bright trail and saw two feet resting in its path.

"I hadn't realized I was missing," she said in a slightly condescending voice and tried to figure out how she would be able to maneuver into her room. Where he, whichever one he was, was sitting was in the direct path that lead to her room. If she were to get to her room, she would have to walk within reaching distance of where he was sitting. And that just didn't seem like a good option to her. Neither did locking herself into a room that had only one easy exit. The one that he would likely stand in front of. She would be cornered. And that wasn't a place she wanted to be today. Best find a good excuse to get out of here. And fast.

"Oh yes, you've been quite lost, since yesterday morning. Where were you Blaine?" the voice took a dangerous voice. And she recognized the pitch in that. Lord Rhys. But she had to be sure. She had to be sure it was him. With a lofty sigh, she walked over to the far wall that held several bookcases, taking a chance by distancing herself from the door, but she had to be sure.

With an absent gesture, she ran a finger down the spine of a book, then turned to face Lord Rhys in his chair, angling her chin down. The light wasn't any better from this side of the room, but there was nothing she could do about that. She would just have to get closer. It was risk. But she needed to be sure. "Funny thing, really. I could have sworn I knew exactly where I was last night," she shrugged and turned back to the books, pretending to look but seeing nothing but her thoughts. "My mistake."

"And just where was that?" the voice whispered huskily. She considered her options just as she pretended to consider the books. What was best to tell him? What would he believe and what could she get away with? Who could she drag into her mess without conceivable pain on her part or without feeling guilt for theirs? Who indeed, she whispered as her mind focused on one particular blonde with a nose that liked to go where it didn't belong.

Well, Blaine thought with a pondering face, she had said she wanted to help if there was any way. And now there was a way in which she could help. And who was Blaine to stop someone from helping her when she needed all the help she could get at this point in time? Fact was she was standing on shaky ground right now. And besides, the guilt would be minimal.

"I was with a fellow female knight. Claire, I believe you've heard of her?" She turned and gasped when she nearly ran into him. He had crept up on her while she had been thinking. And now he was standing just inches from her. She tipped her head back and looked up into the dark face, the even darker eyes.

Yes, it was Lord Rhys, and the look in his black orbs in that pale face had her shivering. What was it, she wondered, that she was seeing in them? A memory shivered up her spine, from long ago, when she had looked into stranger's eyes and seen this look before. And it scared her. Because she realized she knew exactly what that look meant. Danger.

"You're wearing a dress today, Blaine," Lord Rhys whispered as his hands ghosted up her arms and settled on her shoulders. To an outsider it would have looked like a friendly gesture, but she knew what this was. His hands were there for one reason. To hold her back from running. From escaping. "It's been a long time since you've looked so feminine."

"My clothes were dirty. I borrowed these from Claire," she needed to get away, Quick. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go change," she tried to take a step, but his hands gripped brutally and slammed her back against the shelves behind her, sending some books crashing to the ground. She winced and cried out a little.

"Oh, I don't see any reason why you should change, Little Blaine. You look quite fine to me," he leaned in to whisper at her neck, and she tried to contain the struggles. But as his lips pressed against her neck, disgust and panic curled inside her stomach and she couldn't stop herself.

"Let go!" she hissed and struggled, futilely. She realized it was useless even as she tried, tried so hard, to get away. But she succeeded in only trapping herself more.

Then before she knew it, her dress was torn and he was pressing up against her, his hands and lips places she didn't want them too be, touching her in ways that made her want to scream. She opened her mouth to just that, and he slammed his hand over it, strangling it before it began.

Blaine had promised herself once, she thought as tears fell down her cheeks and he pressed her hard against the bookshelf so that each individual shelf bit into her back and every part of his body was touching every part of hers, that if it ever came to this, she wouldn't struggle. She'd let him have his way, let him do what he wanted, then be done with it. But then she hadn't thought he was capable of this.

And now she knew he was.

She tried to scream past his hand, but her voice didn't reach past their own two ears. She tried to struggle, tried to claw at him with her nails, but it only seemed to egg him one. Oh God, she screamed inside herself as she continued to struggle, continued to waste her energy uselessly, there was no escape. He would do what he wanted and she would be powerless against her.

Then her mind stopped thinking. She made it stop thinking. If her mind didn't register what was happening to her body, then it wouldn't hurt, right? Then it wouldn't matter, she wouldn't know. She wouldn't feel it. And therefore she would be fine.

Blaine startled when the door burst open, and banged against the wall. She thought for a moment she was saved. But the figure standing in the doorway brought her no hope. Why would King Terry try to save her? Yes he was her brother, but he hated her nonetheless.

"Lord Rhys! Leave off!" Terry shouted, and closed the door behind him. He strode to the curtains and pulled them open as Lord Rhys kissed Blaine's mouth savagely then pulled away.

"Why were all the curtains pulled like that? It's too fine a day to block out the sun," she heard Terry say faintly, as her legs gave and she crumpled to the floor, a mass of tattered cloths, bruised flesh, and panicked thoughts. Every limb in her body was shaking, trembling, quacking with the fact of what had almost happened to her. Her breath was quickened, and she gasped, trying to slow it down, make it even. If she could even her breath, maybe she could regain some order in her mind.

"I was waiting for your dear sister to return. So we could have our… fun," Lord Rhys took a seat in his chair once more, then looked at where said sister quivered on the ground. He licked his lips maliciously before looking back up at King Terry. "Too bad you had too go and interrupt us."

"Don't worry about that, I'll leave you too it soon enough," Blaine slowly regained her feet and started to drag herself to the door. If only she could get out, she could calm down. She could regain her sense, figure out a plan of action. Figure out what she would do now that returning to her rooms was no longer an option. "But first I thought I should tell you."

"Tell me what?" Lord Rhys asked as he leaned farther back in his chair and watched Blaine's progress towards the door. She might run, but she couldn't run forever. And when she returned for her things, he would get her.

"I've found it. The second book."

A/N there you gooooo! Now, I had better get some reviews! Or I won't be updating for some time. And this is a crucial time to not update. Yes indeed. You guys wouldn't want to be without the next chapter would you? I didn't think so! So Review review REVIEW!

-Nubia


	26. Ch 25 Heaven or Hell?

A/N here you go! But just to let you know, this one's another cliffie! I would like some revies also, please! Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Heaven or Hell?

"I've found it. The second book."

At those words, Blaine felt a long buzzing drone fill her ears as acid flooded her veins, like quicksilver. She stumbled inches from the door, leaned against the wall as the breath left her body. Her bones sagged, as if her core had been taken from her. She thought she would collapse in on herself.

This was it. This was the end. How could she defeat them? They had two books to her none. The third book was lost, but it was lost here. In the vicinity most likely. It could be weeks, maybe even days, before they find the next book. Who knew if there was a spell in one of the two books they had that would lead them straight to the last book? It could be over within hours that way.

That wouldn't give her much time to escape. If they got those books and they came to power she wanted to go as far underground as possible. As _far_ as possible. If _he_ abused her this much without the books, who's to say what he would do with them? And she didn't want to stick around to find out.

No, no, no… NO!

She wouldn't run! She wouldn't! Couldn't. And she would not let them win. She couldn't let these people win. They had come to far. _She_ had come to far. She couldn't let this be the end. She squared her shoulders, as she stood away from the wall. No, this wasn't the end. This was simply the perfect opportunity for her to make another plan.

She had best sneak off on her own, so she could find a quiet place where she could sit and think. Sit and think and plan. Everything had to go perfectly this time. No surprises, no chests that knocked the sense out of her. No. None of that. Everything had doubled in importance. Everything had doubled. Including the stakes.

This was a dangerous game she was playing, all the more because of whom she was playing it with, and what the prize was for the winner. The fate of the world.

"Blaine?" the sound of her name being called was accompanied by hard knocking on the door. Without a word, Blaine dashed to it, yanked it open, and fell into Merric's arms. Just as quick, she pushed out, pulled the door closed, then, grabbing Merric's hand, sprinted down the hall, trying to get as far away as fast as she could. The more distance she had between her and her enemies the better she would be able to think.

"Blaine!" Merric gasped some minutes later, after her wild race down the corridors had turned into a slow trot. "Where are we going? What's wrong with you?"

"I… we need to go somewhere we can sit… somewhere I can think," she whispered, then figured she best kill two birds with one stone and headed to the mess hall. She hadn't eaten for a while. And like the saying went, it was best not the think on an empty stomach.

"Blaine, what's wrong? What's happened?" Merric asked, his voice hard again. She figured he had probably seen the torn dress. It would be hard not to since her sleeve was hanging down around her wrist and the sole reason why her dress was still covering her body was one button hanging from one thin, stretched thread. Lord Rhys hadn't been very nice to Claire's dress. Now she'd have to buy her a new one. Pity.

"What do you think?" she spat out and continued to pull him along, unaware that she was still clinging to his hand. "Isn't it obvious by my appearance that something terrible just happened?"

"Blaine… Blaine stop!" he yanked on her hand, had her spinning around. She glared daggers at him when he put his hand on her chin and looked deep into her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"What does it look like?" she hissed then became aware that her hand was still in his. She dropped it hastily and lifted her chin out of his hand as well, turned, and stormed off down the hall. "I can't believe they found that book. Oh!" she shouted and turned to punch him, hard, on his shoulder. "If only I still had those books! If only you hadn't given them away! At least with them I'd have some kind of leverage, or assurance, some God damned peace of mind!"

Once inside the mess hall, she grabbed a tray and took it to the window for food. Filled tray in hand, she went to an empty table, not that it was hard to find one. There was hardly one in the mess hall at this late in the morning. She would be free to sit at her table in peace and plot.

"Blaine?" Merric called, and she looked up absently. Yes, he decided, as he looked at her bedraggled hair, her shredded dress, the bruises just being to crop up along her face where Lord Rhys's hand had pressed so hard. It was time. "I'll be back soon. Wait for me?"

She nodded, vaguely aware of his voice as she delved deep into her thoughts. It seemed only a space of a few minutes that she was alone with her developing plans, dissecting every possible option that she had and rejecting them all. None would work. All were too risky, with too fatal of a consequence if she were to be caught.

Dropping her head into her hands, she groaned. What was she going to do? She was the only one… the only one who knew about this, the only one trying to stop it. If she were to die, there would be no one to oppose the forces. She had to be careful.

"Blaine?" she heard a voice whisper, and looked up to see Merric standing on the other side of the table, his hands behind his back. What was he hiding? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, untrusting of him and his ways.

"What?" she snapped and watched him warily. His arms were moving, drawing whatever he was hiding from behind his back out into the open. Then she saw it. And she recognized it. And she felt her heart stop.

It was a bag. And inside that bag were the two most important things she had ever owned in her entire life.

The books.

"Oh," she whispered, as slowly she stood. Her hands rose as if to reach out for the books, but then stopped, trembled in midair. What if this was fake? What if Merric was pulling some sick joke on her? She wouldn't be able to take it, she wouldn't be able to survive if this was a cruel trick. Merric was handing her the salvation she had so desperately needed. If this is fake…

If this was fake, she would kill Merric with her own to hands.

"Are you serious?" she asked him, pulling back her trembling hands, folding them together and pressing them to the center of her chest as her eyes welled with quick tears. "This isn't a joke? These are my books?"

"Yes, these are you journals. When you sent Darren back here, having relieved him of his job, I was so angry at you Blaine. I thought you had betrayed me, changed your character on me. And I wanted to hurt you. The easiest way I could think of was to destroy your books. But I couldn't. And I couldn't give them away either. I knew how much they meant to you, and despite all my anger towards you, you still meant something to me. I couldn't do it Blaine. I couldn't give away your journals. So I lied to you. And I realized I was only so mad at you because I lov—"

"Blaine! Come! We're leaving!" Blaine's head jerked up and her eyes connected with Lord Rhys's. Oh God, she thought as the green orbs danced to the side. King Terry. And he was holding the other two books.

"I… just a second!" she couldn't take the books now! Not when the other two were right there—right there!! She had to… she had to hide them, she had to keep them safe. Merric! She needed Merric to hold on to them for a little longer. He had done a good job so far. "Merric, I need you to keep those for a little while longer. Keep them safe."

"What's this? Keep what safe my Little Princess?" Oh God! No! Her eyes didn't leave Merric's as she tried to convey through them how important this was to her—to the world—as she heard Lord Rhys's footsteps fall, each step bringing him closer to the most important object in the entire world.

"It's nothing Lord Rhys!" she shouted eagerly, too eagerly. He would realize something was wrong. She was acting strange, she had to calm down, she had to think! She had to act like she always acted. But she couldn't. Not now, not when everything was resting on this. Give him an explanation! One that he would buy into. Do it Blaine! Do it now! She felt her eyes screwing up in consternation. She couldn't think, couldn't breath. It was all happening too fast. Too much!

"It's just a few books, that's all," Her eyes sprang open to bore up into Merric's. What was he stupid? What the hell did he think he was doing? Lord Rhys was getting closer with every step! Every one was taking away more and more of her hope. If he saw the bag, if he… who was to say he would even know what was in it? But he could! He could know! She couldn't take that chance! She couldn't!

Her breathing was getting faster and faster, her face was sweating, every limb in her body was trembling as he got nearer and nearer. Just grab it! Grab the bag and run. Turn and flee as fast as you can, Blaine! Just grab it and take off! Go underground, go to the edge of the world! Just get away!

Her trembling hands lifted, reached…

…And fell short.

Bewildered she looked up. Merric had stepped away from her. He had taken her books and stepped away. What is he doing? Why is he stepping away! Come back! Her mind was screaming for him, begging for him, pleading for him to come back. To come back and give her the books. Please!

But he wasn't coming back. He was turning to Lord Rhys. They were speaking. What were they saying? She couldn't hear. All she could hear were her own panicked thoughts, and the beat of her racing heart. Come back! She wanted to scream it. She even tried to. But her jaw remained locked shut, the words remained trapped inside.

No! she was screaming it in her head, in her eyes as they welled with tears. Come back, if only she could say it! If only she could break the spell on her mouth. Then Merric was moving, holding the books out. She felt a noose close around her throat as the books got closer and closer to Lord Rhys's outstretched hand.

She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let that book get into his hands. It would be over.

"No!" she screamed. Her own voice scared her, seemed to shake off the bind that had been placed on her. She raced forward, reached out for her possessions. But Merric again pulled them out of reach. "What are you doing?" she shouted, her voice high pitched and frantic. "Give them to me!"

"Why should I?" Blaine flinched at the words. She looked up at Merric and felt anger replace the panic. What was he doing? This was no time for such stupid jokes.

"Stop kidding. Give them to me Merric," she tried to grab them, but again he lifted them out of her reach.

"Why? They're not yours," Merric's voice had taken on that tone again. That hard one that he used when he was trying to control his anger. And his jaw was ticking like it did when he was tense, stressed. Angry. But what did he have to be angry about? The fate of the world wasn't resting on his shoulders! It was on hers!

"Yes they are! Give them to me, Merric! Give them to me now!"

"No, they're not. I've given them to Lord Rhys!" he started to hold them out to Lord Rhys again.

"No! Merric don't! Don't give them to him!" She lunged at Merric, trying to knock him off balance. Maybe if he fell, she could get the books from him, maybe she could get them and she could run. She was fast, wasn't she? Well, she could be fast today. She could run… run to George! He would help her! She knew where his mother's cottage was in the city! She would run there, and George would help her. He would get her out, get her safe, until she could think of the next step in her plan.

But she ran into a wall, literally, when he body collided with Merric's and he didn't budge. He didn't fall, and he didn't drop the books.

Instead, he leaned down so they were eye to eye. He grabbed her shoulders, gave her a sharp squeeze, as if reassuringly. Then he smiled at her. He smiled. "You don't have to worry, Blaine. I'll take care of you now."

"Please," she grabbed his forearms, squeezed until her nails dug into his skin. "Don't do this! Give me the books Merric. Please."

"This is for the best, Blaine. Don't you worry any more, he can't hurt you now." Merric released her and turned back to Lord Rhys. And he still had that stupid smile on his face.

"I believe this belongs to you?" Merric asked and smiled again, that hideous, happy little smile. Why was he doing this? Why was he betraying her like this? How could he? He had told her he was on her side. He had told her he would help her, he would protect her, that he would be there for her. So why was he doing this? Why?

"Stop! Merric! Don't!" She screamed. But it was too late. She watched, unable to believe as Merric dropped the bag that held the final Book of Three into Lord Rhys's awaiting hands.

She gave a tortured cry as a bright light filled the room. Then King Terry handed Lord Rhys the first and second book. And for the first time in thousands of years, the Books of Three were reunited. The secret spell in last pages of the three books would be there now, written in scrawling gold ink.

It was over… no! No it couldn't be over! She had to make one more attempt. She had to try one more time to get the books. She couldn't give up. Not like this, not now. She crouched, getting into the sprint position like she saw countless times at the Olympics. The cracking of the first book opening was like the gun being shot, and she broke into her sprint.

Before she had even made it three steps, Merric's arms closed around her, hugged her tight to his chest. Why? She felt her heart splinter and break. Why was he doing this? Was he in league with them? Was he one their side? How could he do that too her?

"Merric," she whispered, her voice broken with agony, "why?"

"I did it for you," he whispered, but it only made it hurt worse. She watched, trapped in the arms of the one who had betrayed her so many times, forced to watch as her two enemies flipped to the last pages of the first book and began to recite the spell.

No! She couldn't let them! And she couldn't let them win like this. She had to get those books out of their reach. As long as she had one, as long as she destroyed one, the final spell would be lost. She had to get her hands on one of those books.

She began to struggle, wriggling her body like a worm, as the first book was closed and the second was opened. She kicked, she elbowed, she punched, she dug her nails into his arm, and still he held her, and still he whispered in her ear, "I did this for you."

Then the second book was closed and the third and final book was opened, and the panic came back, ten times as strong. Her movements became frantic, each word that Lord Rhys whispered another cut in her sanity.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She opened her mouth wide, lifted Merric's forearm, then sank her teeth deep into his flesh. Even when she heard him grunt, she bit harder, until she tasted blood. But still she didn't let go. Not until she felt his arms release her did she let go. Then he was grabbing his arm in reflex to the pain and she was sprinting forward.

Her hands grabbed the book, and she slid them around so they were on the corners closest to Lord Rhys. Holding tight, she started to pull. If she could just get this one book! Just this one! Everything would be okay! She could run! But she had to get this one book first!

"Let go you little bitch!" she heard King Terry scream and she flinched in terror, hunched her shoulders expecting a blow. But she didn't let go. Instead, she pulled, pulled hard. She felt the book lurch, but it didn't come lose.

Then Merric's arms were around her waist again, and he was pulling. But instead of hindering her, this time he was helping. Two bodies pulling were better than one.

"It is finished," Lord Rhys whispered, than he shouted it! And he laughed, that hideous wicked laugh of his. Throwing his head back, he roared his laughter up to the heavens, as if to spite the Gods that watched from that high peak.

There was nothing the Gods could do. They couldn't help, she knew that now. Maybe she had known it all along. Why else would she had been brought here? No, they couldn't help. It was all up to her.

She gripped the edge of the book harder, and tugged harder. But it didn't budge.

"Look," King Terry shouted and pointed. "It's true! The portal to the worlds has opened!" With wide eyes, Blaine looked behind her. Gasped in shock.

Behind her it stood, not two feet away. Blaine could practically feel the power radiating from it. The portal itself wasn't what one would expect. It wasn't a swirly mass of light that was so often shown in movies. Nor was it merely a slit in the air that could only be seen from one angle.

No, there was no ignoring or missing this thing. No… no way.

Standing in the middle of the mess hall was massive gate. It was curved at the top, like an old gothic style gate. The bars looked to be made of solid gold, with leaves of gold crawling up them. As she watched, slowly the gates swung inwards, opening, and for a split second, Blaine thought she was looking in on Heaven.

But the picture that could be seen inside the perimeter of the gate wasn't one of heaven. It was one of hell. The hell thought would soon take over this world. And destroy it.

"What is that?" Merric whispered in her ear. His voice was filled with awe, and looking at the others faces, she knew they, too, were in awe of it. But that was wrong. Couldn't they see? Couldn't they see that behind those gates was nothing but death and destruction? But what did it matter? They were distracted. This was it! This was the moment!

"PULL!" she shouted, and with all her strength, she pulled. Merric, in reflex to her words, pulled with her, and with their combined strength, they ripped the book from Lord Rhys's grasp.

Blaine grunted, then Merric stumbled. The book flew from her hands as she fell backwards, on top of Merric, through the portal.

The gate to the portal crashing closed was the last thing Blaine heard before she fell into oblivion.

A/N Sorry! Another cliffie! I swear though, I think this is the last one. Maybe. As I see it, there are two maybe three chapters left. So this is probably the last cliffie. Anyways! Review!

-Nubia


	27. Ch 26 Yes, Officer

A/N Here you go! There are only... two chapters left. Maybe three. So if you want to send me a review, you better do it quick! lol. And yes, I do expect some reviews! Anyways, I don't mean to always nag and stuff, and I want to spend a special thanks to those who do review, it means the world. And with that, enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Yes, Officer

"Oh Gods! Blaine what have you done!" Blaine jerked as the words screamed across the space of time and she shuddered. That did not sound good. It was probably best if she figured out what he—Merric she judged from the voice—thought she had done while still pretending to be asleep.

And what a miserable couch to go to sleep on? It was obviously too small for her body as she had drawn her knees up for room, but still had her feet pressed against the side of something. It felt like plastic. Plastic? But Tortall didn't have plastic…

"Blaine! This is your fault. Wake up and tell me how we got inside this strange monster!" Man, did he sound angry or what. And if anyone it should be she who was angry! Hadn't he given her book to Lord Rhys?

Oh God! The books! Lord Rhys and King Terry had put the books together, and read off the final spell that had immerged in the last pages. The portal to the worlds had been opened. And wasn't it ironic that it had looked like the gates of Heaven? But inside it hadn't. Inside it had looked like hell.

Oh! And then they had struggled over the book, the last one, the one that she had previously owned and the one that Merric had given away, and she had dislodged it from Lord Rhys's hands, and closed the portal in the process.

But not, that it to say, not before she and Merric had fallen through it into another world. But which world? She certainly didn't want to know. If she had fallen into that Hell like world, that would just ruin her day entirely. But it didn't feel hot, and certainly a hell world would feel hot. So maybe she and Merric had been lucky enough to fall past that world and into another.

Which one, however, was the problem. Well, Blaine said to herself as an annoying buzzing sound reached her ears, there was only one way to find out. So, just open your eyes Blaine, and take a look at your new world.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine slowly lifted one lid, then the other. And was thoroughly disappointed. The sky to this world was a tacky tan color. And it looked awfully fuzzy for the sky. Maybe the fuzzy was actually thousands of tiny tan colored insects. That would explain the buzzing in her ear. And the sun… well maybe it was out of order at the moment. For the plastic bubble like thing on the ceiling wasn't bright with sunshine. In fact, it looked quite dead.

"Wait a minute…" Blaine whispered, her eyes scrunching in puzzlement. "I know that!" she said and lifted her hand to touch the sky. Actually, it wasn't the sky at all. Blaine laughed as she ran her hand over the ceiling.

"Really Blaine! This is no time for laughter! We're stuck inside a monster! And if you would but just look out the windows of this monster, you would see that we're in a world filled with other ones!" Merric grumbled from the front seat.

Blaine only laughed again and sat back up. "We're not in a monster, Merric. We're in a car! And this isn't a world of monsters. This is New York City!"

The buzz made sense now, she thought, looking out the window onto the parking lot and the other empty cars and vacant spots. It was the sound of people, or machines, or cars, or just plain… habitation! Of energy coursing through the wires in the telephone lines above her. It was the sound of life. Or at least, the life she had led until she had died eight years ago. It was good to be back, good to be in the bustle, good to be one with the _technology_!

"If we're not in a monster than how do we get out?" Merric shouted and looked at her, his eyes wild with fright. Blaine couldn't really blame him for his fear. She would be scared too, wouldn't she, if she had just entered a world thousands of years more advanced than her own? But then again, it was his fault they were here in the first place! He was the one who gave Lord Rhys the final book. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, and she prepared herself to shout, when a tapping on her window turned her attention.

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you all right?" Blaine's head whipped to the side, a curse on her lips. A curse that was quickly swallowed when she realized the intruder was a uniformed cop.

She took a deep breath and rolled down the window to the car and leaned out, a giant smile on her face. Years it had been since she had seen such a magnificent sight. A cop. How wonderful. How comforting. How… normal! This is what she had been missing in her life! Normalcy! "Yes, Officer. I'm quite alright!"

"Would you like a first aid kit, you've got a nasty scratch there… Holy cow! I know you! Hey! You're that actress! Blaine Wellington! Me and my wife loved your last movie! Her especially. That tropical paradise one! That you did with your fiancé… Chris Breckinridge! Oh my God! It's you right there! In the front seat! What are you two doing in New York? And dressed like that!"

While the police officer had been babbling, Blaine lifted her hand to finger the cut on her forehead that had dribbled blood down the side of her cheek. She must have hit her head on something, probably the window lever thing. What were those called anyways? Who cares! As long as she was on Earth, it didn't matter. But now she had to get rid of that cop. Because Merric was on the edge of a breakdown. And hearing the name Chris hadn't soothed anything. That was still a rather rough spot between them.

Hastily, she rolled up the window, then opened the door and climbed out. She heard Merric's gasp of astonishment before she slammed it closed again, then leaned up against it and smiled at the officer.

"Actually, we're here on a movie shoot. Did you know that the hills in the rural parts of New York look remarkably like those of olden day England? Yeah… shocking right? But anyways, Chris and I are staring in a new movie, a spin off of Camelot. We just came into town for a break," she gave him a chatty smile and hoped he would scurry away soon so she could have a chance to talk to Merric.

"Really? New movie? I haven't seen any previews for it," The cop frowned a little at her and rubbed at the salt and pepper grizzle on his chin.

"Oh, no, it's all been under wraps. Real hush hush. Some publicity thing. Who knows! I just say the lines when they tell me too," she shared a laugh with the officer. But then something hit her. They were acting as if she hadn't been missing for eight years. If she had been gone for as long as she had been in Tortall, wouldn't some one be making a fuss about her? But no. He wasn't acting as if anything was wrong. "Say, what's the date? Been so wrapped up in filming I lost track of time."

"It's the eighteenth of October." Blaine paled drastically as she did the math in her head. Eight weeks. She had been missing for eight weeks. For every year she had been in Tortall, seven days had passed on Earth. Interesting.

"I supposed your secret taping would be the reason why you haven't been in the news lately," Blaine lifted one eyebrow curiously and then giggled slightly when the man blushed. Really, was their anything cuter? "Not that I was looking for you in them or anything! It's the missus! She's one of your most devoted fans. Seen all of your work. Love you since your first Gerber commercial!"

Blaine smiled again, then thought about what he said. Not in the papers? So her M.I.A. wasn't public. Was her mother keeping it a secret for a reason? And what reason would that be? All this thinking could wait, however, she had to deal with the cop first. "Well it's always nice to know that true fans exist. And yes, the secret movie work is why I haven't been in tabloids. I haven't had time for anything _except_ filming."

"Oh! I see! And the cut?" he started to reach out to touch it, people had a tendency to do that when confronted with what they thought was stage makeup. Hurriedly she slapped his hand away then smiled playfully.

"That's right! Those make up artists can draw on anything. However, Carlo, that's my makeup artist, is quite particular about his creations. So I'll have to ask you not to touch. Would you like an autograph?" Best to just move things along, Blaine thought as she realized the cop was in no hurry to get going.

"Sure, sure! That would be great!" he shouted as he handed her his ticket notebook. She smiled and gracefully accepted his pen.

"Who should I make it out to?" Blaine gave him another smile, almost flirty, and had him blushing. Poor thing, she thought as she finally took notice of his appearance, probably the first time he's ever met someone famous. He looked to be about fifty, with a belly that any doughnut-loving cop would be proud to sport. His hair was a grizzled gray and stuck out like straw from under his police cap. His features were strong, with a little bit of pudge too them, and his cheeks were a ruddy red from embarrassment. Yes, definitely the first time he had meet someone famous.

"To Emma and Leroy. Emma's the missus. And I'm Leroy. Leroy Gardner, with the NY police force. Been on the job over twenty years, doing my best to keep you safe." Blaine looked up with a beaming smile as she scrawled across the page and then signed her name with a flourish.

As she handed the notebook back, she rose and kissed him quietly on the cheek, then grabbed his hand a squeezed. It wasn't always best to be personal like that with the fans. Sometimes they took it as invitations to things she hadn't wanted. But with this man, she doubted it would do much harm. He looked to flustered and just plain delighted to have an autograph. "You're doing a wonderful job, Officer Leroy. Now, I best get back to Chris," in a conspiring way, she leaned in and whispered, "he's awful cranky today." They shared a laugh together, and she touched his arm. "And you best get back to your work. Got people to save today!"

The officer smiled hugely, thanked her for the autograph and went on his way, a jolly little spring in his step. She gave a small delighted laugh, she was always pleased with herself after making a fan happy like that, and turned to Merric's door.

Slowly, smiling at him all the while, she grabbed the door handle, and pulled the door open. Seeing that he was now freed of the monster, Merric leapt out of the car. Blaine laughed at him, thoroughly enjoying his fright. After all, he deserved a little payback for what he had done.

"What's going on Blaine?" Merric shouted, placing his hand on his sword hilt and looking around in fear. "Where in the name of the Gods are we?"

"Relax Merric. There's nothing to be scared of. We're just on Earth." She gave him a catty smile and folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the car, waiting for his outburst. She could see the fear in his eyes, and the fury. It infuriated him to realize that she wasn't scared in the least. It infuriated him even more that _he_ was the one that was scared.

"Relax! Of course I can't relax! The woman I thought I was in love with turned out to be an evil witch and brought me to some foreign land with metal monsters that swallow humans whole!" Merric shouted, throwing his hands up in anger. Blaine wanted to laugh at the last part. But it was the part where he blamed her for this that had her anger racing forward.

"My fault? _My_ fault? You're the one that gave Lord Rhys those stupid books! You're the one that made it possible for him to the open the portal to the worlds! And you're the one that stumbled and pushed us into the portal. So if _anyone_ brought us here, you did!" With each sentence she stabbed her finger into his chest, her eyes spitting fire at him.

"How was I supposed to know that the books would open a portal?" Merric fought back, grabbing her shoulders and holding her away from him so he could look directly into her eyes, his voice rasping with his anger.

"You could have trusted me!" Blaine shouted and beat his chest with her fists as emotion overtook her. "I trusted you, didn't I? I trusted you over and over again despite myself and despite what you had done to me! And look at what happened? Look what you've done! We're stuck in New York!"

"How could I trust you when you didn't tell me anything? For all I knew these were journals!" Merric shouted and Blaine swung away, turning her back to him as the anger consumed everything. She had to calm down, take a breath, try and make sense out of this. She couldn't act rationally when she was this angry. She had to calm down.

"Ah screw it," she hissed and whirled back to face him. Anger was so much more enjoyable than being calm. "I trusted you when you kept things from me! I trusted you when secretly you were hiding the fact that you still had my books. And I trusted you even after you told Claire about my abuse! I still trusted you, Merric. I had faith. And I guess I was the fool."

Anger drained away and was replaced by an overwhelming sadness. Why was it she just couldn't give up on him? Why did she keep on coming back to him, time after time, hurt after hurt? Why couldn't she just let him go? She covered her mouth with her hands and swallowed down tears.

"Blaine, I—" Merric whispered and took a step forward. But her outstretched hand stopped him. She looked down at her feet and swallowed again, held her silence for one long moment. When she looked back up her eyes were bright with emotion.

"Just… just tell me why Merric. Why did you do it?" she whispered, her eyebrows curving inwards in a torturously sad expression.

"I did it for you, Blaine! I—"

Her laughter cut him off. But it wasn't a happy laugh like he had wanted to hear from her. It was harsh, hard, cutting through him like a blade. She shook her head and gave one final little laugh before rasping, "Well, if that's true that was the biggest mistake of your life. Your stupidest move. How could you think that would help me?"

Merric stared at her. Was he ready to bare his soul to her? To tell her the truth? It was the expression in her eyes that made up his mind. He couldn't stand it when she looked at him like that, with those big green eyes naked with pain and anger, betrayal. So, licking his lips he stepped to her, grabbed her hands firmly in hers, and looked deep into her eyes.

"The truth is, Blaine, I really did it for you. No!" he shouted when she tried to pull away. He gripped her arms hard, and shook her. "Listen to me! It's the truth! Lord Rhys offered me a deal. He said… he said if I gave him the books he would make sure you were never abused again! He said that you would never be hurt again."

Blaine gasped, and lifted her hands to cover her mouth as it dropped open in shock, and in wonderment. The words had soared right past her anger and straight to her heart, like Cupid's arrow, bringing his words to her, and their warmth. "Really?"

"I can't stand they way your eyes look every morning when you race out of their rooms. I can't stand the bruises I see, on your face, your arms, your stomach. I can't bear the thought of you being hurt like that, and having no one to protect you. But most of all, I hate that there was nothing I could do about it. Because… Because I love you Blaine!"

Blaine's eyes opened up wide as she stared at Merric, dumbstruck. What had he just said? "What?" she asked, her face almost dumb with her inability to comprehend what he had said. Then she saw his mouth start to open and she yelled at him to stop and throw her hands over his mouth. "Don't say it again!" she whispered and just watched him.

Oh, yes, she knew exactly what he had said. The words were shivering down her spine in a delighted wave. Her mouth was stretching into a smile as the words finally came to a rest inside her heart, making it swell with happiness. Everything inside her swelled with that happiness and every other emotion was pushed away, forgotten or lost, as the utter joy took over.

This time when she laughed, it was a sweet little giggle that was music to Merric's ears. She jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as his arms came around her waist, and it was like coming home.

All those times, all those odd little feelings inside her heart when he had looked at her that certain way, looking straight into her eyes, into her heart, when he had cared for her, when he had tried to protect her. All the hurt when he had betrayed her, when he had said things that had cut, all of it was leading to this. Leading to this one precious moment.

The moment when she realized…

"I love you too."

She smiled, and looked up at him. And when his smiling eyes met hers, nothing else mattered. This was it, this was all that existed for her in this moment. A warmth surrounded her, settled in her bones. And she knew, this was what she had been waiting for.

She sighed, a wispy breath of air escaping her softly parted lips, and looked up at Merric. "I'm so glad you gave him those books," her lips then curved up in a smile.

"But what do we do now, Blaine? We can't stay here forever," Merric's arms squeezed her tightly before releasing her. But not completely. His hand grabbed hers and held it firmly, and that little contact kept her smiling for days.

"No, you're right, we can't stay here. But we can't go back just yet either. We need to prepare. Got any ideas on how to beat those suckers?" She smiled up at him, her happiness stopping her from feeling any fear at all. As long as Merric was with her, she could do anything.

"No, do you?" Merric asked, and despite his worry he found himself smiling back.

"Why, as a matter of fact I do! Got any jewelry on you that we can sell at the pawn shop?" He nodded and pulled a bag of gold from his pocket. Oh yes, she thought, this would definitely do.

"But Blaine, I have just one question for you," Merric was following along obediently as Blaine headed out of the parking lot their car had been parked in and down the sidewalk, into the crowded city, heading for the nearest pawn shop.

"And what is that Merric?" she responded without looking. She stopped at a corner and pressed the button for the light.

"How do you know about this world?" he asked before watching in awe as the lights changed colors and people moved across the street, them among the crowd.

Once on the other side of the street, Blaine looked up at Merric with a sweet smile, than winked. "Funny thing really."

* * *

Two hours later, back in the parking lot, fully prepared, arms linked together. The portals opened back up, and together they stepped through, back into Tortall. Ready to face their enemies and save the world.

A/N There you have it! Leave me a review and tell me what you think. The next chapter is the big battle.

-Nubia


	28. Ch 27 The End

A/N Hey guys! I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out! But this was a hard chapter to write, because of some complications I had in my plot line. But don't worry, I got it all straightened out and the story should continue on smooth. Okay, so read, review, and enjoy!

oh and **READ THE A/N AT THE END OF THE PAGE! IT'S IMPORTANT!**

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The End

Merric stepped through the portal behind Blaine and watched as she lifted the small black object into the air, one hand wrapped around the handle of it, the other coming up to support her hand. He seriously doubted that the little black object would be able to do anything.

Back on Earth, when he had stifled most of his questions for the sake of saving time (such as what the place was, how she knew about it, how she knew her way around it, and why everyone seemed to know who she was, and who he was for that matter), but there was one thing that he had had to ask. And that was what her little black object was. And she had said it was simply the better version of a bow and arrow. Sort of.

Merric frowned, but he followed her through anyways. She seemed to know all about that world. So she should know about that black object, even though it was small enough to fit in her hands, light enough to be easily carried, and didn't seem to have any sharp point to it at all.

"Lord Rhys!" Blaine shouted and brought Merric back from his wandering thoughts. He crouched slightly, and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, ready to take care of business when that black thing failed to do the job.

"Ah, the little Princess has found her way back through the portal. Pity," Merric's eyes jumped to King Terry, almost shocked. He had realized that he and Blaine hadn't had the best relationship. But his voice had been cracking with an evil hatred. Why was that? Was it worse then he had suspected?

"Nice to see you too, brother dearest. Now hand over those books before I have to take drastic measures!" Blaine shouted and steadied her arms, which had begun to quiver in nervousness. What if she missed? What if she didn't hit anything? What if she hit something she didn't want to hit? What if they hit her with a spell before she hit them?

"Not a chance, sister of mine. Lord Rhys, now!" Blaine's eyes opened wide as she watched Lord Rhys's left hand raise. A yellow ball of light began to gather in his palm, growing brighter and bigger with each second that passed.

This was it! Gainel let my aim be true. This is for you, she whispered in her mind as she lifted the gun, looked down the sight and pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

The echo bounced across the walls and up her arms as the people around her jumped and looked at the black gun in her hands. Blaine, however, was watching Lord Rhys through the haze of smoke that lifted out of the mouth of the gun. Had it hit?

She watched his hand jerk back at impact, then hang there stiff. A small black dot appeared in his hand. Maybe she had missed? Then the black drop slipped down the center of his palm and in the wake came a trail of dark red.

Blood. No, she hadn't missed. Not at all.

She gasped out a sigh of relief as Lord Rhys's eyes opened wide, and he turned his palm to his face. Her eyes darkened in horror as she saw the back of his hand. It was nothing but a bloody mass of chewed flesh.

Then she cringed as Lord Rhys's piercing scream ripped through the air. He fell to his knees, gripping his right wrist in his left hand as he continued to bleed. He was sobbing now, bending over his knees, his head nearly touching the ground.

He looked up, his eyes white with pain and confusion. "What have you done to me hand? What have you done!"

Blaine's own hands trembled around the gun as for a second her heart quivered. Now she realized why guns were so… so…

Exhilarating!

They couldn't touch her with this! Ever again! She wouldn't let the. They couldn't get within feet of her thanks to this gun. She would be free from their bruising hands. Forever. As fast as their arrows or their fists could fly, her bullets were faster. And always would be. She was untouchable for the first time in so long. And she loved this… feeling of freedom that washed over her like a wave of refreshing water. What a wonderful experience.

Now, Blaine thought as she turned her eyes away from the whimpering Lord Rhys and unto King Terry, it was time she went after the main source of the problem. King Terry. She turned to him, the gun rose once more, looking down the sight, aiming for the heart, for the instant kill. With him out of the way, she would be able to get the books, and she would be free. Free from pain, free from fear, free from _him_!

"Say buh-bye, Terry," she whispered as she started to pull the trigger. She felt the muscles in her fingers, bunching up, tensing. Adrenaline pumped through her system into her brain and that exhilaration was back, full force. This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for, practically for her whole life it seemed. She couldn't wait.

Suddenly, she saw a shimmer appear before her, across the space that was between her and her target. For a moment her focus was lost and she smelt the tantalizing sent of lavender, heard a crash of waves upon a shore, and felt a sudden wave of sleep descend over her brain.

Her hands went lax on the gun, and as easily as plucking a flower from a garden, the shimmering figure lifted the gun from her hands. She watched it float in mid air for a few seconds, then slowly hands materialized around the gun. And from those big, capable hands she could follow strong arms to broad shoulders, up a graceful neck and into a face that she hadn't seen in a long time. A face that seemed to be all different faces at once. Ever changing. The most beautiful face in the world.

"Gainel?" she whispered, her voice and eyes filled with an uncertainty. What was he doing here all of a sudden? She hadn't seen him in four years. She watched him, watched his face, as it seemed to take on all different shapes and sizes, features and expressions, and felt a sudden stir of anger. What did he think he was doing? She didn't need him anymore!

Four years ago, after finding the first book and giving it to Merric for safekeeping, she had returned to Tusaine, her homeland. And things hadn't been what she had expected. She had known it would be bad, it had to be with her brother taking charge of things. She had known for a long time that her brother had hated her. And returning to him was obviously going to be a hardship. But she hadn't known what she was really getting into.

Blaine could still remember that first night, that first time he had truly struck her. It was so clear in her mind. The words she had spoken hadn't mattered. What had mattered was the fact that she hadn't said them in anger, hadn't said them in fear. She had meant them as a peace offering. And she could still see the way his eyes had filled with this… this gleeful pleasure, could still remember how she couldn't quite understand why he was raising his hand. Then it had swept down and out. She had felt the contact on her cheek, felt herself go flying backwards and hard to the ground. And there had been pain, at first, and confusion. Lots of confusion. She hadn't understood, at first, what had happened. Or why he had done it.

But then she had remembered the glee in his eyes, and she had known, she had understood. And she had been afraid. Even more so when she realized that first one wasn't the only one. It was just the beginning.

The anger however, that she was feeling at the moment, wasn't because of the abuse. No, it was because of what had happened later. When she had finally returned to her rooms, she had sat down on her bed, her body aching, her emotions ready to tangle into a distracted mess, tears threatening with every breath. But she had held herself together, barely, with the hope, the one hope, that there was help for her. She had folded her hands quietly in her lap, pictured Gainel's beautiful face in her mind, and she had called to him, pleaded with him to help her, to protect her, to tell her what she was supposed to do next.

What she had received in answer to her calls wasn't just a simple non-response. A simple non-response would have been nice compared to what she got. She had called to him and she had felt a door in her mind slam shut. He hadn't simply not been able to respond to her. He had ignored her call for help. He had walked away. He had abandoned her.

And now he had the guts to stand in front of her, like she still needed him? He had left her. He had abandoned her, left her out in the cold, feed her to the wolves. She had endured so much because of him. So much more than she ever would have thought possible. She was strong. She didn't need him.

And she would prove it.

"Give me back the gun, Gainel. And step aside. You brought me here for a reason, for a purpose. And I'm about to fulfill that purpose," her eyes turned to hard flints that glowed in the light as she pushed off that sudden fatigue that lagged at her brain.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Gainel whispered, his voice tumbling around the hall like thunder through the mountains. "I can't let you do that."

"What do you mean you can't let me do that? You brought me for just this reason. And now you're not letting me do it?"

"I can't let you do it Blaine. You see, I realized quite some time ago, that you weren't quite the right person for this mission," he said. Blaine's brow scrunched as she jerked back a little. Not the right person? Who did he think he was? He had the gall to put her through four years of living hell and tell her that she wasn't the right person for the job? That was unacceptable.

"I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head slightly, pulling back even farther. The anger was consuming much of her thoughts and she knew she had to gain control. She had to think clearly, she had to. Taking a deep breath, she took a step back from her anger and forced herself to calm down.

"Think about it for a minute Blaine. Think back on all that you have learned of this mission. And then maybe you'll understand," he said it carefully, and she felt as if she was being swallowed by a summer breeze. Behind her eyes, golden letters scrawled across her mind and she was brought back to a passage she had read four years before in New Haven:

_The origin of these three books is said to be of a young mage, a mage, who in fact, has been, thus far, surpassed by no one. The mage created the spells inside the books, including the hidden one._

_The mage was greatly loved by his king, and used often in battles and the like. He was commissioned by the king to create the three books and fill them with spells that would make said king unstoppable. And because the mage was loyal, he did as he was told._

_The mage traveled the country for many years, experimenting and creating the spells that are inside the three books. It is said, however, that after completing the books and beginning the return journey to his king, he saw in his dreams a vision sent by the Gods. A vision that showed him many great terrible things that his spells would cause._

_Realizing what he had created, the mage decided he had to destroy the books so the spells could never be used for evil, as evil hands would intend if they gained possession. However, when the time came to destroy the books, the mage could not. He had poured his life and his soul into the books and could not bring himself to destroy them. Instead, he separated the books and hid them where he believed no one would ever be able to find them._

_When he returned the to king empty handed, the king, who had never really loved the mage, only the power the mage could bring him, had the mage killed. It was said that because of the great power the mage exuded and the great courage he showed by hiding the books and facing his king anyways, he was turned into a god and watches over the books from the heavens, making sure they remain hidden and out of evil hands_

But what did that have to do with this? Wait… her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, the revelation sweeping through her like a stampede of knowledge, screaming down her nerve endings. "You…"

"Yes, Blaine dear?" Gainel asked patiently, watching her face.

"You're the mage! You're the one… who created the books! Aren't you?" she whispered and Gainel smiled.

"I always knew you were a smart one Blaine. Yes, I am the mage who created the books."

"Then why? Why are you stopping me! I thought you wanted me to destroy them. I thought you wanted me to take them out of the hands of evil. I thought… I thought I was doing something important. Something you needed my help with. Why am I not the one?" Blaine stammered, exasperated. It didn't make sense. None of this did.

"For that very reason. I don't you to destroy them, Blaine."

"Then what do you want me to do? Tell me what you want and I'll do it!" Blaine shouted, angrily. She had not sacrificed so much just to have it all amount to nothing.

"But you won't Blaine, you won't. I know too much about you to lie to myself about this. And it's because of that very fact that I can't tell you," Gainel's voice had taken on the sound of soft, lonesome rain.

"But why him?" Blaine shouted suddenly, her voice furious. She jabbed a finger in Lord Rhys's direction and asked again, "Why Lord Rhys?"

Gainel's beautiful face, that face that had features that were always different, frowned. He tilted his head to the side causing long wisps of glittering silver hair to shimmer and flow to the side like a river, and his clear eyes of every color watched her, puzzled.

"Lord Rhys? I'm afraid you're mistaken. I didn't choose Lord Rhys," Gainel shook his head sadly. Blaine frowned trying to comprehend.

Who else could it be? Lord Rhys was the only one who made sense. When she had first ventured into Tortall the Dead Eye men had appeared, attacking her on several occasions. But when she had returned to Tusaine, all attacks had stopped. That, combined with the repeated times she had seen Lord Rhys inside Merric's eyes, she had figured Lord Rhys was the one with the books.

And it had made sense. Lord Rhys had wanted to kill her because he had assumed with her gone, he would have control of the thrown. It was also known to her that Lord Rhys was not native to Tusaine, so that could explain why he believed she was the next to inherit the throne, when actually it was Terry that would. So, the attacks had stopped because when she returned to Tusaine she was engaged to Lord Rhys. He didn't have any need to kill her because he was going to marry her. And by marrying her, he would have power. It made sense.

So why was she wrong? Who else could it be? Who else had the books besides Lord Rhys? Wasn't he the one that had them in his hands, this very moment? Wasn't he the one that Gainel was protecting?

Then she realized. Gainel wasn't standing between her and Lord Rhys. He was standing between her and King Terry. Gainel hadn't stopped her from shooting Lord Rhys. He had stopped her from shooting King Terry.

"Terry?" she asked. Think about it Blaine, she whispered in her head. It made perfect sense. More sense than anything she could come up with for Lord Rhys. Why would Lord Rhys want to kill a princess? It was common sense that a woman was easier to manipulate than a man. It was far easier to marry the woman to get power than to kill her and try and negotiate with her surviving family. No, the theory behind Lord Rhys didn't pan out.

But the one behind King Terry did. King Terry had spent most of his entire life hating his little sister. He resented the fact that he hadn't been born second, but first. Yes, he got to inherit that throne. But he wasn't the center of attention. He had never been the center of attention. His little sister had.

Marissa de Veinto had been born second, and by being born second she had been born under a prophecy. But not any prophecy. The prophecy. The one that the whole of her countries believes depended on. And it was because of that, because a woman out shinned him, that he had hated her.

Terry had every reason to want to kill her. But that didn't explain why Lord Rhys was there, or why the attacks on her had suddenly stopped. Then she thought about, and she realized it did make sense. Perfect sense. King Terry didn't have the gift. He couldn't wield magic, and therefore, he couldn't use the books. But Lord Rhys did have the gift, a small one. Big enough that he could use the spell books. And that was why Lord Rhys was there. Because he could use the spells.

And from there it only took a little bit of reasoning to understand why the attacks had stopped. Why kill her, when he could make her suffer for the rest of her life? By making her marry a man she didn't love, or trust, a man who would hurt her, a man who would abuse her? Yes, it all made perfect sense.

But the final piece of evidence that sank it all into place was what she had seen inside the chest in Lord Rhys's room. After all her hard work, her secrecy, her putting her own life in danger, she had found the chest that was supposed to hold the spell books. And when she had opened that life altering chest, inside had been…

Nothing.

There had been no books, none. Because Lord Rhys had never possessed the books in the first place. King Terry had.

"You'd pick Terry, over me? My own brother? I don't understand!" she shouted and fisted her hands, her voice anguished.

"I had to Blaine. You see, I don't want you to destroy the books. No, never. They are far too valuable for such a wasted end. No, I want you to give them back to me. So I can use them to regain my body, and rule the world! As I should have long ago!"

"What do you mean? I don't… I thought…"

"You thought what every other person, every other god thought. You thought that on that day, so many thousands of years ago, when I separated the books and returned to the king, it was to tell him that I hadn't succeeded and to sacrifice my life for my people. Well, you're wrong, just like everyone else. I didn't separate the books to hide them from others, I separated them so that I could keep them safe until I could go back for them. And I didn't return to my king to sacrifice myself. I returned so I could kill him and take his throne! But the stupid bastard killed me first! And because I was turned into a god after that, I wasn't able to return to the books. So I planned and planned and finally I came up with a way to return the books to my hands."

"The prophecy," she whispered in horror, her voice cracking with it.

"Yes, very smart, little Blaine. I created the prophecy. And I did it so I could train a child to do my every bidding. It was by sheer misfortune that the child born to the prophecy was an utter weakling. It was a good thing I killed her as fast as I could, and placed you in her body," he paused when Blaine gave a mortified gasp. "Yes, that's right. I killed the little princess to make room for you. And it seems all for waste. You aren't any better than her. You won't give me the books any more than she would have. But King Terry will. He believes every word I say to him, and he'll be the one to give me the books. As soon as I get rid of you."

As Gainel was talking, Blaine came to a crucial enlightening. Gainel couldn't touch the books, for whatever reason. But why couldn't he? Why?

"Blaine, who are you talking too?" The voice shattered her thoughts like a piece of class. She blinked as if coming out of a haze and it took her several moments to recognize Merric's voice. She turned to him, frowning, but was puzzled when she found him frowning back Justas much. What did he have to frown for? And then she put his words together and she realized something else. He couldn't see Gainel. No one could see Gainel. Only she could. But why?

"Merric, who's Gainel?" she asked him, as the fatigue she had been fighting off disappeared all together.

"Why… he's the God of Dreams of course. What does it matter? What's going on?" But Blaine didn't answer. She turned back to Gainel, a beautiful smile on her face. The gun was back in her hands, had in fact never left them. For Gainel wasn't really standing in front of her. He was simply a dream figure.

"Good bye Gainel," she whispered, lifted the gun, aimed, and fired.

She heard the resounding scream from King Terry, and the echoing howl of defeat from Gainel. She had won.

But it wasn't over yet. Not yet. She still had to do the one thing that no one else seemed to have the courage to do. The one thing that could have solved everything, and yet had solved nothing at all. The hardest thing in the world.

She had to destroy the Books of Three. Before they caused any one else grief. And she knew just how to do it.

As she stepped through the cursing figure of Gainel, easily for he didn't exist in real life, only in her mind, she saw the scrawled words once more in her mind.

_In the first book, the Book of Creation, are spells that center around creating things, such as water out of thin air, or fire. It is also said that the true reason that power hungry people seek this book is for the Spell of Creation. It is said that this spell allows the mage to take the materials around him—be it rocks, water, sand, plants, even fog—and create a person from it. Granted, the person would not have feelings or be able to make it's own decision. It is created for the sole purpose of carrying out its creators will. It is also said, but never confirmed, that if one were to look into the creations eyes, it would see a vision of its own death. _

_The third book is the Book of Obliteration. It has the opposite effect of the first book, the Book of Creation. It has the spells in it that can destroy anything. However, the spell that makes it so wanted is the Spell of Obliteration. If used on a person, not only does it obliterate the person, but everything that the person was ever connected to. Every memory, every action, every ripple effect the person ever created, is forgotten. It becomes like the person never existed. Imagine the things a King could do with a spell like that._

"Please, have mercy on me, please! I beg you sister!" Blaine could hear Terry's voice as she leaned down in front of him, and grabbed the three books out of his hands. He was insignificant now. Once, he had held so much power, once he had held the world. Now he held nothing but the ruins of his own life. She was the one with the power, the one that owned the fate of the world.

And she would do what was right. Because no one else could.

"Blaine, what's going on?" Merric asked as she walked back to him. He had a bewildered look on his face, mixed with a little bit of fright. She could see his eyes straying to the gun in her hands, and she dropped it negligently. It was useless now. For there wasn't much time left before everything would change.

She felt strangely calm, utterly serene, even though she knew what was in store for her, what would happen within the next few minutes. Any one else wouldn't act as she would, she was sure.

But she was also sure that this is what she had been made for. This was her fate, and she was ready to accept it. With a beautiful smile on her face, she handed the books to Merric, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, something she had been wanting to do for longer than she cared to admit.

When she pulled back, she gave him a loving smile, rubbed the backs of her fingers along his rough cheeks and sighed. It was a pity… she thought her thoughts trailing off as she smiled once more.

"I love you, Merric. I do. I think I always have, and that's why I fought it for so long. I just wanted you to know that, before… well before. Now, will you help me with this spell? We need to say it at the exact same time."

Merric nodded, and held out the books for her, his heart lumped in his throat. He couldn't believe what he had said to her, but what he really couldn't believe was the fact that he wanted so badly to say it back to her. Yet, for some reason, the way she had said it, made it sounded like a goodbye. Why would she be saying goodbye when they had finally come into safety?

"Now, we have to read this at the same time," she whispered as she flipped the third book open to the Spell of Obliteration. She was going to destroy the books of three, and the one person who was responsible for them being here today.

She sighed and didn't feel the least bit of uncertainty. Even though she knew King Terry hadn't be able to use the spells because of the fact that he didn't have the gift, Blaine knew the spells would work for her. She was using the spells for good, and therefore, they would work. They had to. It was simply not in the stars for this to fail.

"Are you ready?" she asked Merric, breathing deeply as she lied easily to Merric. "At the end of the spell, I want you to say, 'Books of Three'. And I'm going to say 'Terry De Veinto'. Understand?"

When he nodded, she told him to start and together they read the words on the page, all the while she was saying her goodbyes. She wished she could see Darren, one last time, just to tell him again how much he had meant to her. But he wasn't here. She wished she could see all of them one more time, so she wouldn't forget their faces. She gave a slight frown, then concentrated on the spell as they drew to the last few lines. Her last few moments.

In unison they said, "And with this spell, we do obliterate…"

"The Books of Three," Merric said clearly while at the same time Blaine said in a quiet voice…

"Marissa De Veinto."

A/N Okay, this is not the end! I promise! I would not leave you hanging with that as the ending. There is one more chapter after this. So, please be on the look out. And give me your reviews! I demand it!

Nubia


	29. Ch 28 The Beginning

A/N Read the A/N at the bottom when you finish this. And review. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Beginning

_Beep_.

Blaine moaned and tried to lift her hand to rub at her forehead. It felt like it was splitting in two with every beat of her heart. But the struggle was useless, as her arms seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

_Beep_.

Why couldn't she lift her arms, she asked herself as she tried to lift them once again. But she failed. It wasn't because they weren't there. No, she hadn't suddenly lost her arms. In fact, she could feel the strain in them as they tried to lift. No, it was something else, some… Something was holding them down.

_Beep_.

"Will someone shut off that damned noise?" she growled, her voice scratchy with disuse. She tried to clear her throat, but had to stop suddenly when she felt pain.

_Beep_.

"I said shut that off! It's killing my head!" she shouted this time, uncaring if her throat hurt. Her head hurt worse! But why did it hurt? Why? She wasn't supposed to be… her thoughts trailed off at the voice. _That_ voice. She knew it. From where?

"I'm sorry, Blaine, I can't shut the machine off until I'm certain that you're safe." Blaine smile, then, knowing who it was. A small, peaceful smile. She opened her eyes, blinking against the bright light that seemed to be shinning right in her face.

"Ah, Darren! It's so good to see you. I thought… well I thought I would never see you again, to tell you the truth. In fact… what am I… What's going on?" Her face had gone rapidly from pleased surprise to horror, as had her voice. Suddenly she sat up forcefully in her bed, winced when the wires taped to her arm pulled painfully.

She looked around herself, at her surroundings, the machines, the white walls, the sterling silver chests. At the greenish gray tile floors, the florescent lights. She inhaled deeply in shock and fear and she smelt that smell. She knew that smell anywhere. Sterilization.

She was in a hospital. Not a healing ward. A hospital.

But she didn't understand. What was going on? She was supposed to be dead. Gainel had told her that she had died after being hit by a car, and it was her soul only that he had put into Marissa's body. And then Blaine herself had obliterated that body with the spell. So her soul, who didn't have a body to reside in, should have passed over, passed on, into the heavens. Why was she here then? Why was she alive?

Well obviously, one thing was certain. Gainel had lied to her. But then again, what hadn't he lied about?

"I'll explain it to you soon. First, please tell me, what's your name?" She looked at Darren, feeling herself choking on tears. What was this? Didn't he remember her? Didn't he remember anything? And how was he on earth? She had left him back in Tortall! She had left everyone!

"I'm… Blaine… Blaine Wellington. The actress," her voice rose and fell with the emotions that caused her voice to crack, swallowing back sobs. No, he didn't know her. Not like the old Darren had, before the spell. She could see it in his eyes, right into his soul. She could see the polite formality that held his true self away from her. He was holding _himself_ back. From _her_.

She felt a loss so acute, she thought it was cutting her heart into pieces.

"Good, and can you tell me your birthday?" he asked, seemingly unaware of the torment he was putting her through. How was this possible? Why? Why was it possible? She was supposed to be dead, not here, not on Earth, in this life that wasn't meant for her, wasn't right for her. That left her unhappy.

Darren cleared his throat and looked at her pointedly, she tried to push away her depressing thoughts as she focused on his question, but it was hard, very hard, and it took her several moments to be able to do so. Then she recited it lifelessly and sat in her bed, her hands limp in her lap. She hadn't known until now what she had been giving up when she had said that spell. But she was pretty certain she realized it now.

"That's right. Good. Let me explain some things to you Blaine. A car hit you, but lucky for you, it wasn't severe. There was no lasting damage, only little cuts and bruises. However, you seem to have struck your head on the pavement. And you have been in a coma for the past eight weeks."

Eight. That's the exact number of years she had been in Tortall. But now she began to question, to wonder. She began to doubt.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, fighting to keep her face from melting into a mask of tears, her voice from dissolving into a toneless wail.

"I'm Dr. Darren. I'm your main doctor, although you have had several, including an anesthesiologist. You've been quite a puzzle to us Blaine. Quite a puzzle. Ah, here's your nurse with your meal!"

Blaine turned to the nurse and curled in on herself, over the wrenching pain in her chest. It was Nealan, and he was carrying a tray with bland hospital food and a little cup of pills. He didn't recognize her either. At least, not as the old Nealan had, the one from Tortall. No, how could he? She had made it all up.

All of it.

"Blaine, we're going to try and keep you awake for a little while longer, would you mind answering some questions for us?" Darren asked. She felt her lip quivering at the impersonal tone in his voice and bit it, hard enough to make it bleed. But it ceased its damnable shaking and she was able to form a semblance of control.

Stop it Blaine, she shouted at herself as she nodded dully. Put on your face, your mask. You're an actress aren't you? This isn't different than any other scene in any other movie that you've ever done. Now put on that face, Blaine. Don't let your hurt show.

But it was different. So terribly different. This wasn't a movie, this wasn't a scene. This wasn't something she would sell to the general audience. This was her life, her emotions, her truth! Was she just going to act her way through it, like a character in a play? A character that had no true feelings, only lines on a page?

She had to. Because that was the only way she would be able to survive.

"Why don't you just ask her to sign autographs? Since that press release went out, we've had people crowding our halls for hours on end. I can barely get from one room to the other. And then there are the fake injuries coming in, all so they can get a look at this little diva right her. We've got other patients you know!" the short redheaded woman with pretty violet eyes grumbled angrily. Blaine wanted to weep, felt as if the tears were on her face. They were already in her heart.

Alanna. But it wasn't her. Not really. Not the Alanna she had known. "No matter how many movies you've starred in, you're not any more important than anyone else!"

"Oh Alanna, be nice! It's not the poor lass's fault that the general public can't get enough of her! It's not like she asked them here on purpose. Hell, she's been in a coma for the past eight weeks, cut her some slack," Another notch was knocked away as George walked through the door behind Alanna, his hand going around her waist casually as he smiled at Blaine.

It was amazing, she thought, even though she seemed incapable of holding onto her mask for more than a full minute, he couldn't see her pain. And she realized why, and the realization hurt. Because he didn't know her. So he didn't know that she was hurting. None of them knew.

"I hear she's awake!" A voice rumbled from the hallway and she cringed, pulling her body to the back of the bed, her shoulder and head pressing against the green wall behind her. She was near to wrapping her arms around her head for protection when she realized they were all staring at her.

And it wasn't that stare that you give a friend who's acting strange before you burst into mutual laughter and joke around about it playfully. No, it wasn't like that. This was an uncomfortable stare, where you realized that everyone was staring at you, at your imperfections, and they were judging you, calculating you in their mind and finding you wanting. No, it wasn't good, and it made her ache for those times, those times where they would have laughed it off, and everything would be fine.

"Well, I've had bad reactions before, but this is the worst! Why did I ever want to be an anesthesiologist?" He laughed, and Blaine stared into the face of her tormentor, wanting to run, to hide, to throw herself into Darren's arms and demand that he protect her, that he take the bad man away, like a child would.

But it wasn't the same. She had no right to act that way towards Darren, to demand things from him. She would embarrass him, make him uncomfortable, and he would refuse her. And that would make it hurt worse. Worse than it already did.

"I'm sorry, we haven't met. I'm Kirk, your anesthesiologist. I'm sorry for any nasty dreams my needles may cause you. Really, I'm not that bad," he held out his hand to her, and she looked at it, still crouched in fear. But as she watched his hand, she didn't see the same hand that had hit her so many times. This one was strong, yes, but it was kind, gentle. As she looked up into his face, she saw that same thing radiating in his eyes. This was a good person, she thought, with a small smile as her body relaxed and she sank back down onto the bed, her legs crossing underneath her, Indian style.

"I'm Blaine," she whispered, and held her hand out to him, thankful that her voice didn't catch. She gave a hiccupping sigh, then pulled her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them, staring up at the assorted doctors and nurses standing around her.

There were others in the room, she noticed. It seemed her mother hadn't sprung for a private room. But as she watched, she saw other doctors and nurses moving to the other patients in the room. And she recognized them. Each one.

From Tortall.

Had it all been a dream? Had she made it all up? She didn't know, she couldn't make sense of it! It was all so real to her, but who's to say this wasn't a normal thing with other coma patients? But she didn't want it to be fake! She didn't want it to be a figment of her imagination!

She wanted it to be real.

Because when it had been real, it had been the first time she had been loved, appreciated, respected. She had meant something to someone and not because she was an actress, but because she was a person. She had been real to them, just like they had been real to her.

And now, she was alone.

"Blaine! Dear! I'm so glad you're awake!"

Blaine's head turned sharply to the side as she watched the tiny little woman sweep into the room, drawing all eyes to her. Her mother was as thin as a stick, and she had likely paid a lot of money for that, Blaine was sure. She had also paid for the shiny golden curls hanging off her head and stylishly around her face, the green contact lenses, and that designer suit and matching bag that hung off of… well… the other part of her body she had enhanced.

All with Blaine's money.

"Are you mother?" Blaine asked as her mom walked through the door. Behind her followed her best friend, well ex best friend, Amanda. And behind that…

"Chris," she said, her voice strangely blank. It was almost funny the way life worked. For the past well… for however long it had been since she had seen him… she had wanted to be here, in his presence, so she could tell him all the mean things that had been brewing in her head since she had seen him in bed with her best friend.

But now, with him standing in front of her, and the people who looked like her friends but weren't anymore, she knew she didn't need to say those things to him. She didn't need to anymore.

Because he didn't matter. Not like he used to anyways.

In fact, in a way, she was grateful to him. He had broken her heart, crushed her dreams, brought her to what she had thought was her death. And he had opened her eyes to the truth. Because of him, she knew that the people in her life didn't really love her, not for herself. Because of him, she wasn't afraid to admit that.

Because of him, she knew what real love was. She had found it.

And now it was gone from her. It hit her suddenly, and she felt again that acute sense of loss. Don't let him see it, Blaine, she said to herself as she watched Chris enter the room with cold eyes, don't let him think it's for him. Never for him.

"Hello Blaine. It's good to see you," Chris said in a quiet voice. She supposed he was trying to sound contrite, even sorry for what he had done. She wanted to scoff at him. There was no being sorry, no feeling "bad". He had messed up, and there was no way to erase that mistake. Especially not when Merric was in her mind.

How could she have ever confused them? Merric was nothing like Chris. Nothing.

"What are you doing here Chris? I thought we broke it off eight weeks ago," She gave him a distant puzzled smile, barely noticing her doctors who had stepped politely away but not out of the room. They were listening subtly, and because subconsciously she knew they were there, she kept her face distant, blank. She didn't want them to see, now that they weren't who they were supposed to be.

"Blaine! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! She… it was just a one time thing! Please, let's try again! We can make this work. Give me a second chance!" Chris's words were those of a beggar, but his voice was that of a general. He wasn't asking for a second chance, he was demanding it. She found great pleasure in denying him.

"No."

"What? What do you mean no! You can't do this to me Blaine! I'm your rock. You love me! You can't do anything without me by your side! Admit it. You're dependant on me, Blaine. You want me back! Don't deny us this right!"

"I'm not denying you anything Chris, because we never had anything to begin with," she heard a collective gasp go through the room, but she continued on. This was her true second chance, her true opportunity to make something out of her life. And she wasn't going to waste it.

"I was a foolish, naive little girl. And you Chris? You saw that and you snapped up your chance like there was no tomorrow. You used me Chris, for you own publicity. Don't try to tell me I'm wrong. I understand completely! I'm Blaine Wellington. I'm the face everyone wants. And you? Your Chris Breckinridge, sexiest man alive. There isn't a greater pair in existence, is there?" she gave a derisive laugh, then pushed on. "But you can't play that game with me anymore Chris. I'm not stupid, and I'm not naïve anymore either. I know what love is, Chris. And I can say with all surety that you've never loved me.

"So it's over," she said with a simple little shrug, folding her hands calmly in her lap. "I'm through with you. You can keep the house, the car, even my stuff that's still there. I don't want it. I don't want anything that reminds me of you. Because I don't want to be reminded of what a silly young girl I was. Goodbye now Chris. I think it's best you leave."

She didn't wait for him to answer, to protest. She simply looked away from him, focused her cool green eyes on her best friend, and forgot that he even existed. "As for you Amanda, I'm done with you as well. I think the reason that I hung on to you for so long was because I so desperately needed a friend. Even if she was a fake like you. You weren't a friend, Amanda. You were a beggar. You pretended to like me, to enjoy my company, because I shared my wealth with you, my fame. You used me, every bit as much as Chris did. And I'm sorry for that. I know now, what you truly wanted all along was my life. My fame, my wealth, even my man. Well you can have all of that as well, if you can get it. Because I don't want or need it, just like I don't want or need you. Please leave."

She gave a long drawn out sigh, smoothed her hands over her lap, and listened for a second to her doctors and nurses fidgeting behind the three people she least wanted to see. She looked at each of them, judging the surprise on their faces, mostly on Alanna's. It seemed Alanna hadn't realized she was real, had real problems in her life. Blaine almost smiled at the expression on her face. But she wasn't done yet. She had one more person to go.

"And now you mother. I believe it is you I despise the most. Since the moment I first smiled that million-dollar smile, you've been thinking of ways to ring more and more money out of me. Well, I've given you enough. I used to think, that if I did just one more shoot, one more commercial, one more movie, that you'd love me. Again, that was me being a foolish girl. I see the truth now. Nothing I ever do will be enough to make you love me. And frankly, I don't want you to love me. I think it would be a sad thing for a person as selfish and as cruel as you to love me, because what would that say about me? It would say that I've become like you. And that, I imagine, is possibly the worst thing in the world. But that's not the point. The point is, I'm washing my hands of you. You can keep the money that you have at the moment, I don't begrudge you that. It's my fault for not being firm on what I stand for. You won't receive another penny from me, though. I'm eighteen now, and I'm hiring a real manager, I good honest one, maybe one I can even be friends with. Isn't that a concept Mother? Me, making my way in life. And you, without a cent," she smiled faintly, even gave a little laugh, then turned her eyes down to the hands in her lap.

"Now, I'm tired, and I'm through with you. I think it's best that you all leave." With that, she lay back on her bed and slowly closed her eyes. She heard a quiet buzz of conversation around her, then the screams of fury, of protest, of outrage. But it didn't touch her. She was calm inside, content. This was her second chance, and she was using it now, in the way it was supposed to be used.

* * *

Six Months Later

"Yes Darren, I'm doing fine! I know, I'm taking the medication, but I'm telling you, the coma had no lasting effects," she smiled as Darren patiently explained for at least the sixth time into the phone why she was still on medication.

She leaned back in her director chair, the script she had spent a frenzied amount of time writing sliding low in her lap. Her smile turned soft as she heard the concern in Darren's voice. It was good to finally have him for a friend.

It had been rocky at first, having him as the impersonal doctor. But as she had gone through rehabilitation in the hospital, he had been her constant companion. And they had slowly grown closer. They still weren't at the same level as they had been in Tortall, if that was even real, but they were close.

Sometimes she did wonder if she had made it all up. The whole Tortall thing. It would be pretty outrageous if she had. She hadn't ever thought her mind had the capacity to make up an entire world, and then fill it with people who had existed around her. It was quite a fantastical idea, though she was almost certain it was impossible. Almost. There was one little… tidbit that made her think it was real.

She had found no one who would have inspired her to create Merric.

At first, she had thought it was Chris. It had made perfect sense. Merric looked just like Chris, even though his personality was different, better. And that made sense as well. She hadn't been exactly happy with Chris at the time of the coma, so her imagination had made up a better version of him, one she could love and who could love her in return. She had thought she had found the perfect solution to the problem of whether or not it was real.

But then she had found out that of all the eight weeks she had been in the coma, that would be fifty-six days total, he had visited her once. And that had been on the day she had woken up.

Merric may have had Chris's face, but he wasn't Chris. And the emotions she still felt for him were too real to be imagined, too real to be a simple little dream.

No, it may seem implausible, but she was absolutely sure that it was real. That Tortall really existed and she had gone there, fallen in love again, saved the world, and then returned home.

So sure, in fact, she had written a movie about it. She grinned as she looked down at the script in her lap, at her name on the cover page. Eighteen years as an actress and she had never once attempted to write her own movie. In fact, she had thought it quite beyond her range of talents. She had been wrong.

And quite surprised at that. When she had finally returned home after three months of extensive rehabilitation in the hospital, she had returned to her New York apartment, totally Chris free. She had sat down in front of her newly bought laptop, ready to check her e-mails. But instead she had found herself opening up a Word document. And then her fingers had been flying across the keyboard, typing at a rapid pace.

At then end of the day she had written sixteen pages of a manuscript. At the end of three months the manuscript was going into production. A Blaine Wellington original.

Now she couldn't seem to get ideas out of her head. So many ideas, so many plots, so many characters! She already had two other scripts nearly finished and one just in the process of being written down. She was casting roles left and right, signing contracts here and there. Her business was booming.

But this one, this one was her baby, she thought, stroking her hand lovingly down the page. This one was about the truth, about Tortall. This one was about her life, and what had happened to bring her where she was today. It would probably be the only movie that she had written that she would star in, but it hadn't seemed right to cast her role in the play to someone else.

It was her story. And she was going to tell it.

"Blaine are you listening to me?" Darren's voice demanded in her ear, bringing her out of her thoughts. She smiled wider at the impatience in his voice. And she wanted to laugh. This was the Darren she had known back in Tortall. Yes, this was definitely him.

"Look Darren, I gotta go. Our final potential Merric has arrived and I need to do a scene with him. Besides, I can hear your wife calling for you. Tell Claire I said hello! Goodbye!" she took the phone away from her ear, then pressed the off button as she looked down at her script again.

"Excuse me? Are you Blaine Wellington?" she heard a deep voice ask, faint irritation causing it to come out gruff. She wanted to laugh. What a silly question. It was hard to believe there was someone on this planet who didn't know her face. She smiled faintly and nodded, not lifting her eyes from where they were caressing the script in her lap. Her script. Hers.

"I'm here to try out for Merric," he said again and this time she heard the agitation in his voice quite clear. She chuckled softly as she slipped the phone still in her hand into the bag at her side and lifted the script.

"Alright have a seat. We're going to start with scene five…" her voice trailed off as she lifted her eyes and looked at the man standing in front of her. The breath knocked right out of her lungs.

He was tall, handsome, definitely handsome, with thick brown hair, almost red in the light, and soft brown eyes. His strong jaw was shaved, but she could see the shadow of whiskers already beginning to appear. His full mouth twisted into an irritated line as his brows drew down in a frown. He was looking at her as if she was the stupidest female alive.

The black shirt he was wearing showed off the toned muscles in his chest, shoulders and arms, accentuated the flat line of his stomach, which led to nice snug jeans and sneakers on his feet. He looked like every other ordinary handsome actor she had ever seen in her life.

But when she looked into his eyes, looked far into them she saw…

"Merric?" she whispered breathlessly, scrambling to her feet as her heart raced. The script fell from her limp fingers to the floor as her eyes widened and her heart thumped. No it couldn't be! But it was. There was no mistaking that look, that exact look in the depths of his eyes, Merric's eyes. As he pulled back in confusion she felt her heart swell with overwhelming happiness. He had Merric's expressions.

He had Merric's soul.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm here to try out for Merric's role. Are you feeling all right? You look a little dazed," she swayed on her feet as the utter joy rushed to her brain, and he jumped forward to catch her. "Look! I don't do swooning girls. Take a seat, it's probably just a head rush. And just like a girl to do something like this. Every one of them, exactly the same." He continued to mutter to himself about the uselessness of women as he helped her gain her balance.

"Yeah… that's it… a head rush," she fell back in the chair, and suddenly, the most beautiful smile filled her face. This was it, she thought as she looked up at the man with Merric's soul. She didn't even know his name. But she knew this was it.

"Scene five right?" he asked, sighed with that same irritation, as she seemed incapable of following the conversation.

"Right. What did you say your name was?" she was smiling still, such a pretty smile, as she watched him from her chair, script lying forgotten on the floor.

"Garret" was the curt reply.

"Well, Garret, what made you want to try out for the part of Merric?" she asked, a dreamy look in her eyes now. She didn't think she had ever been this happy.

"I don't usually do acting, at least not anymore. But my friend, Lark, had a copy of the script. I saw your name on the cover and was semi interested that you do more than just acting, and I wanted to see if you were any good at it," he paused when he saw her scowl, but there was a playful light in her eyes.

"Anyways, I was helping him out with his lines, and it was funny, because well, the man, Merric, just… called to me. I could understand him, practically predict what he would say next, because it would sound like something _I_ would say. I felt the emotions he was feeling, because it's what I would feel if _I _were in the situation. Merric feels like… well… like a medieval version of myself. But it's more than that. When I read the part, I feel like I'm reading about myself, about another part of me that I've never discovered. And I feel this faint recognition in the back of my brain. It's almost like I've been there in that situation, in a dream or something. Or like a past life! It's crazy, I know, but I feel like I am the character, that I _am_ Merric," he looked up at her for her reaction, suddenly unsure of himself.

But Blaine just smiled at him and said, "Funny thing really."

A/N Well there you have it. That's the end. I'm so thankful to all of your who read, and especially those of you who reviewed. I do believe this is my best work yet, and I'm so glad I could share it with you. If you will do me this one last favor, and all of you review this one, I'll be so thankful.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

-Nubia


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